


Through Time and Memories

by Samuraider



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Male Character, Crossover Pairings, Demisexuality, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, I'm calling these two dipshits 'SoleFinder', M/M, NaNoWriMo, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samuraider/pseuds/Samuraider
Summary: Sole survivor of Vault 111, Nathaniel Trujillo, encounters a mysterious person who crosses into the Fallout universe, all thanks to Jack Cabot's ingenious space-time machine interlinking the two separate worlds, which now remains inoperative.Unbeknownst to Nate, he's sent embarking on a journey across the Commonwealth with the stranger, Scott Ryder, in tow hoping to find an alternative method in sending the Pathfinder back home. What started off as an agreement between two strangers gradually grows into a memorable romance neither expected when they first crossed paths.(P.s. I'm now referring to these dorkwads as 'SoleFinder.') ¯\_(ツ)_/¯





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There'll be some canon divergences in this fanfiction (will mention at beginning of chapter). Other than that, I'll try to adhere as close as possible to the original, which is a tad bit difficult when you're conjoining two separate universes.
> 
> Also, main characters based off of my customization. Not the preset version.

The world over two hundred years ago, untainted by nuclear warfare, felt like a beautiful dream; a stark contrast to the marred land Nathaniel Trujillo trudged through on an average fall morning.

Like anyone else struggling to survive in the Commonwealth, Nate was no exception as indicated by his tall, sculpted stature from a year of hard work restoring settlements and the small town of Sanctuary. A reserved yet humble man, Nate felt obligated providing people a place of solace and a chance at a new life. And Sanctuary was that opportunity.

Except Sanctuary wasn’t Nate’s destination as he walked the cracked, twisting roads, but the notorious Parsons State Insane Asylum. A recent letter received from Edward Deegan requested Nate’s assistance on some unfamiliar research project that Jack Cabot mustered up in the dead of night several months ago. Knowing Jack, the project could range anywhere from a simple medical procedure to a potential doomsday device, which Nate wasn’t too keen on if true.

The recently hired guards – fitted with better gear and weaponry than the last batch had – patrolled the exterior walls of the building. Jack even went so far as to recruit the former Mechanist, Isabel Cruz, to oversee the automatron engineering development. In the short few months the robotic expert worked alongside Jack, she managed to restore two sentry bots, which now guard the perimeters if not the entrance into the facility.

A few of the guards cordially nodded as Nate passed by, making his way into the asylum. To his surprise, the interior received its own modification consisting of turrets, sturdier infrastructure, and furniture.

“Jack went out of his way this time,” Nate murmured.

He approached the elevator and pressed the button while mentally preparing himself for whatever Jack conjured up that had Deegan in a frenzy. Even on the way down Nate still tried to wrap his head around the situation, but it wasn’t until he emerged from the elevator that he stopped in puzzlement. The room originally designed to detain Lorenzo Cabot received a renovation, and whatever the hell Jack Cabot created loomed like a malignant sphere of death behind the glass windows.

The sound of the elevator doors closing caused Jack to spin around exclaiming in the triumph of his recent invention. “Ta-da! What do you think?”

“That you're insane.” Nate approached the glass, his brown eyes studying the mysterious project. “What the hell is that?”

“My latest invention involving the space-time continuum theory and—"

Nate glanced at the scientist in confusion. “Space-time continuum?”

“Shortest explanation is the capability of ripping a hole through time. Similar to that of a wormhole.”

“Let me get this straight,” Nate jabbed a thumb at the object in question, “You built a machine capable of ripping space _and_ time?”

Jack opened his mouth, dangling a finger in the air preparing to explain the entire concept when Nate interrupted.

“Forget I asked.” Nate threaded a hand through his light brown hair before continuing the conversation. “What exactly are you planning with this… _machine_?”

“Imagine the possibilities of traversing across time!” Jack smiled at the machine as if it was his pride and joy. “One hundred years into the future. Perhaps even one thousand years into the past!”

“Having some lingering regrets, Mr. Cabot?”

Ignoring Nate’s sarcastic question, Jack moved to place a hand on the glass. “I’ve finally created the opportunity of time traveling. Mankind’s greatest scientific achievement.”

Nate shrugged. “Well, I guess it’s better than being a popsicle for two hundred years.”

The doors swung open as Deegan entered the room. The longtime friend of Jack waved Nate over while the scientist stood enraptured by his recent creation. Following the ghoul into the elevator and back to the surface, Nate waited patiently for Deegan to finally speak up.

“I quit trying to figure out what wobbles in that head of Jack’s years ago,” Deegan said. “But that device… I don’t like it.”

Lights flickered making Deegan glance up nervously.

“Should have Isabel look at your generators.”

“It’s been like this on and off for the past week.” Deegan turned to Nate with a stern expression on his face. “Jack’s been obsessing over the new experiment. For all we know, it could be a nuclear bomb like crisis waiting to happen.”

“Well, that’s just lovely.”

“Or an oversized toaster,” Deegan added, a small grin edging his lips. “Look, I’ve got business needing attention with the rest of the Cabot family. I can’t be watching Jack’s back every single damn day. So, that’s why I’ve asked you to come here.”

“To babysit Jack?” Nate asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Something like that. It’s only temporary until I get things situated back at the Cabot’s house.” Deegan sighed. “Emogene ran off again, and Wilhelmina won’t quit pestering me until I bring her daughter back home.”

Chuckling, Nate patted the ghoul on the shoulder. “Say no more, buddy.”

“Thanks.” Deegan turned to leave but looked back at Nate. “Just… make sure Jack doesn’t burn the place down in my absence.”

*****

Nate slammed against the floor as the entire asylum vibrated from some unknown force. Struggling to stand upright, he latched onto a nearby filing cabinet waiting out the shockwaves. “What the hell did Jack do this time?”

Crashing through the door into Jack’s laboratory, Nate observed the crackling of electricity and blinding whiteness emanating from the portal-like construct. Glass shards lay scattered across the room and Nate hopped over what remained of the glass wall to reach the scientist.

“It worked!” Jack shouted, disregarding his electrically-frazzled hair.

A symphonic hum resonated from the active portal catching Nate’s attention. Whatever or _who_ ever produced the melody was on the other side of the gateway. Jack’s consistent prattling became a distant murmur as Nate stepped closer to the side of the machine. For some damn reason, Nate reached a hand out, fingers nearly tracing along the bright haze when the gateway pulsated, and a blur of an object swept by crashing against the wall.

“Nate! Come here! Quickly!” Jack flailed his arms about in excitement.

The entire portion of a wall fractured, caving inward from impact by the unknown lifeform lying in the wreckage. Scrutinizing out of curiosity, Jack glanced over to Nate, who moved to stand next to him. “Do you think it’s an alien?”

“Only one way to find out,” Nate said, bending down next to the unconscious figure. The black suit of armor received minimal damage based on Nate’s close inspection, but the lifeform contained within became a primary concern due to the lack of movement. Nate eventually found the interlocked constraints and carefully removed the helmet revealing another human. Tufts of jet-black hair fell across closed eyes and from Nate’s estimation, the person couldn’t be more than early to mid-twenties in age.

“Absolutely astounding!” Jack blurted out as he moved to the other side of the stranger. Kneeling, Jack pressed two fingers against the neck for a pulse. “Well, the good news is that they’re still alive. Just unconscious. No doubt due to the sudden impact against the wall. However, this armor…” Lifting the person’s arm up, Jack ran a finger over the smooth yet scuffed pieces with fascinated attention.

“Jack,” Nate said. When the scientist didn’t respond, Nate frowned and raised his voice, “Mr. Cabot!”

Jack released his grip on the arm, which plopped back down, and peered over to Nate. “Hmm?”

“This man needs medical attention.”

“Oh! Right! Yes, of course!” The scientist hopped to his feet. “Help me move him to a more suitable environment, would you? This is astonishing! A real-life alien!”

 _Oh, dear God. Please tell me Jack isn’t going to do any experiments on this poor fool_ , Nate said to himself as he assisted Jack on relocating the unconscious individual.

*****

A few days, several provisional runs between settlements, and a bottle of Amontillado wine for Jack, Nate returned to the Parsons State Insane Asylum. Jack hovered over his desk scribbling into a journal when Nate walked into the office.

“Nose to the grindstone already?” Nate asked.

“It’s imperative that I write down the details no matter how minuscule they may be.” Setting the bottle of wine upon the table didn't break the scientist's concentration nor when Nate helped himself to one of Jack’s favorite whiskey brands.

“So, how's the alien?”

Setting the pen down, Jack adjusted his glasses. “He's awake and, surprisingly, _not_ an alien.”

“Guess the lack of green skin gave that away.”

The scientist steepled his fingers in contemplation. “Plausibility of parallel universes have always been of curiosity. I've yielded no results until recently.”

“Disappointed?” Nate arched an eyebrow and took a sip of whiskey.

“Over four hundred years of disappointment to be honest.” Jack got up from the chair and strolled across the room to Nate, hands clasped behind his back. “Ever since the revelation of Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity, I’ve always believed I’d be the first man to create time travel. A conduit, if you will. But, alas, my recent invention has simply transported an unknown human across the globe.”

“Well, you did develop an anti-aging vaccine. There's always that.”

Jack pushed his thick-framed glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Humorous, Nate. Unfortunately, my device malfunctioned shortly after the fiasco. With that in mind, it’ll be some time until I can get it back up and operating.”

“So, now what?”

“Perhaps you'll have better luck interacting with the stranger than Deegan did.”

“What nerved him the most? Deegan’s lack of a charming personality or his ghoulish complexion?”

“Nothing as trivial as that.” Turning, Jack returned to his desk. “You’ll find the man downstairs. Speak with Deegan for updates.”

“I’m on it,” Nate said, skillfully sneaking the whiskey into his possession.

 

Deegan didn’t appear disturbed or annoyed by his latest interaction with the individual when Nate met up with him.

“How goes the interrogation?”

The ghoul snorted. “I’m about to ask Jack for a raise.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Won’t talk. Damn fool won’t even eat.”

“He probably lost his appetite after looking at you,” Nate quipped.

Deegan tossed Nate a dirty look. “Funny, Nate. Should consider opening up a comedy club.”

“I might just do that.” Nate reached for the doorknob. “Anyways, I’ll see what I can do. Hopefully get some answers.”

“Good luck with that,” Deegan said as the door closed.

The outsider sat at a table handcuffed; eyes focused on the space in front of him. He still wore the unusual suit of armor minus the helmet. Approaching the silent man, Nate placed the backpack on top of the metal surface getting their attention. Green eyes reflected hostility but didn’t dissuade Nate from engaging in a semi-friendly conversation.

“Cigarette?” Nate asked, placing a pack of Grey Tortoise cigarettes in front of the person. The stranger pressed his lips together in either consideration or unwillingness to talk. Instead, he rotated a wrist to inspect the handcuffs while ignoring the proffered cigarettes. Rummaging through the backpack, Nate retrieved the bottle of whiskey he snuck off with from Jack’s office. Darting his eyes toward the stranger, he noticed them observing him with mild curiosity.

“How about something to drink?” The whiskey bottle slid next to the pack of cigarettes as an alternative offering to coax the guy into talking.

The man chewed on his bottom lip, eyes glued to the liquor, before pointing toward it. “I’ll take the whiskey.”

“Good choice.” Nate slid the bottle to the other man, who opened and quickly downed a mouthful. “Willing to answer a few questions?”

Their eyes met, neither saying anything, until the outsider sighed in submission. “Very well. Ask away.”

Nate fetched a chair from the corner of the room and set it down across from the stranger before taking a seat. “Where you from?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does. Egghead upstairs thinks you’re an alien. I’m hoping to prove him wrong before he decides to do some scientific experiments on you.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Taking another gulp of whiskey, the man looked over at Nate. “I’m human as humanly can be. Next question.”

“Name?”

“Scott. Yours?”

“Nate. How old are you?” Nate leaned back in the chair, arms folded across his chest.

“Jesus, what’s up with all these questions?” When Nate failed to smile, Scott rolled his eyes. “24. Want to know my blood type too?”

“Not really. But I’d like to know why you’re here.”

Scott shrugged apathetically. “Was hoping you could tell me.”

“What do you mean?” Nate asked, arching an eyebrow.

Scott set the whiskey bottle aside and leaned forward, handcuff chains rattling as he drew imaginary lines across the table. “One moment I’m there and the next, I’m falling into a spiraling white mist, and here I am.”

“So, you’re _not_ an alien?”

“Nope.” Snatching up the bottle of whiskey, Scott took another swig, evident that he’s done with the conversation.

Nate stood up, grabbing the backpack, and walked toward the door. “I’ll talk to Jack about arranging your bail.”

“Bail?”

Opening the door, Nate peered over his shoulder at Scott. “You’re in an insane asylum. Don’t expect to walk out of here for free.” As Nate closed the door, he could hear the frustrated groan from the younger man, eliciting a chuckle out of him. _Poor kid. Probably wondering what he got himself into this time._

*****

Jack Cabot eventually agreed to release the mysterious young man into Nate’s care, and after scrounging up some suitable clothing and supplies, had Scott chaperoned back to the laboratory.

“Here.” Nate tossed the clothing at Scott, who seemed hesitant putting on the outfit.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“You’ll be a walking target for raiders with that getup you’ve got on right now.” Closing the storage chest, Nate stood up. “Those bastards wouldn’t think twice putting a bullet between your eyes and stealing all of that.”

“I’m not wearing some raggedy ass clothing.” Scott dropped the clothes to the floor, folded his arms, and glared at the older man.

Tension built up between the two until Nate sighed, rubbing his forehead in annoyance. “The point is that you’re trying to blend _in_. Not stand _out_.”

The sound of the door opening gained both men’s attention as Jack waltzed in holding Scott’s helmet like a precious artifact. “May I keep this for research purposes?”

“No,” Scott said in unison to Nate’s, “Yes.”

Jack flicked his eyes between the two men who seem hellbent on a scowling contest with one another. “Right. I’ll leave you two be.”

Once the oddball scientist left the room, Scott narrowed his eyes at Nate. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem is that some random stranger gets thrown through a portal looking like a goddamn space man.”

“Seriously? Space man?” Seemingly disgruntled, Scott paced back and forth. “When’s that machine going to be back up and running?”

Although Nate didn’t want to be the messenger, he decided to be the bearer of bad news. “Jack informed me that his _time-traveling_ device isn’t operating for the time being. So, you’re stuck here until he manages to get the damn thing working again. In other words, suit up, bub. We’ve got shit to do in the Commonwealth.”

Scott threw his arms up into the air. “I can’t believe this shit. Hurled into some bizarre place and now I’m probably stuck–”

“Is that thing bulletproof?” Nate prodded a shoulder piece with a finger. “What’s it made from?”

“Titanium plating.” Scott swatted Nate’s hand away. “Would you quit poking at it?”

Deegan – who quietly sat in a chair during the entire conversation – got up. “As much as I enjoy this happy moment, I’ve got more pressing matters to attend. As do you, Nate.”

“Right you are.” Nate picked the clothing off the floor and shoved them back into Scott’s arms. “Better get dressed.”

“What am I supposed to do with my armor?”

“Give it to Jack,” Nate responded with a sly grin. “Consider it your bail money out of here.”


	2. Chapter 2

Scott’s expression resembled Nate’s when witnessing the world for the first time. The young man seemed baffled if not apprehensive, his green eyes taking in the scenery with mild fascination. Something Nate couldn’t fault the guy for.

Traveling across unknown territories with a man one barely knew for less than three hours wasn’t a comforting thought. Although, some small talk occurred when the two first set off from Parsons State Insane Asylum, but it trailed off as Scott snapped his mouth shut after mumbling a few coherent answers. Nate caught on and decided to stick with advising how to survive the post-apocalyptic world. Feeling somewhat obligated, Nate repeated what he mentally went over with to Scott.

“There are three rules to abide by,” Nate mentioned several feet ahead of Scott, who tuned him out the instant his stomach began rumbling. “Rule one, anything and everything is irradiated. Don’t go shoving things into…” Turning around, Nate observed Scott plucking a mutfruit off a stem and holding it up to his mouth.

Noticing the scowl on Nate’s face, Scott stopped; mutfruit still idling near his lips. “What?”

“What part of irradiated did you not understand?” Nate asked, a stern expression on his face.

Scott hesitated on shoving the fruit into his mouth but didn’t drop it either. “I’m hungry.”

“When we get to our destination, you can eat there.” Nate pivoted and strolled along the cracked road relaying more information. “Rule two, anything and everything will try to kill you.”

Heaving a sigh of disappointment, Scott tossed the unneatened mutfruit away and followed the older man. “That’s a given.”

“There’s no laws out here either.”

“What’s the third rule?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Nate’s brown eyes raked over the young man in skepticism. “Until you get adjusted to living in this godforsaken world, you’re stuck with me. Wherever I go, you’ll go.”

Scott immediately raised an eyebrow. “Does that include the bathroom?”

“Plumbing isn’t much of an option these days.” Returning his eyes forward, Nate moved along the road toward the skyscrapers of former Boston. “With that in mind, don’t drink the water unless it’s purified.”

“Doesn’t that fall under rule one?”

Nate smirked at the young man’s response. “Well, look at you. You’re smart enough to remember. Maybe I don’t have to worry too much about you getting yourself killed out here.” He heard the young man scoff and mumble under his breath before slipping back into silence.

Traveling closer to the remains of the city, Scott spoke up again with a hint of concern. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Diamond City.”

“Diamond City?”

“A city inside a baseball stadium formerly called Fenway Park.” Nate peered over his shoulder at Scott again. “Oh, whatever you do, don’t bother talking to Moe Cronin.”

“Why?”

“Crazy old loon has this bizarre idea of how baseball was played. Hopefully, you know the rules to baseball, right?”

“Run around the bases to score a home run, unless you strike out.” Scratching at his chin, Scott attempted to remember the rules of the game. “I think. Haven’t played baseball much. Been stuck in cryo for over six hundred years so the rules might have changed.”

“Stuck in cryo?” Nate questioned, spinning around to face Scott. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it over a beer someday.” Scott tilted his head slightly, mulling over his thoughts before asking, “You _do_ have beer in what I assume is a post-apocalyptic world, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Nate jabbed a thumb toward their destination. “There’s a place called the Dugout Inn in Diamond City that serves alcohol.”

“Awesome.” Scott walked past Nate with a smile on his face. “Now I’m curious about what this Moe Cronin has to say about baseball. Probably something along the line of _bloody mayhem_.”

“You have _no_ idea,” Nate chuckled.

*****

The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth wasteland had Scott laughing hysterically to the point he clutched at his stomach in pain. Confused glances from passersby didn't seem to ease the frequent giggles slipping out of Scott's mouth as they walked through the marketplace either. Nate purchased some supplies while keeping a watchful eye on the young man, who, if not giggling, felt like investigating everything nearby.

The two eventually made their way to Nick Valentine’s agency. The neon light which earned a chuckle from Scott until Nate shoved a mutfruit into his mouth to shut the man up. With juice dribbling down the chin, Scott plucked the fruit from his mouth and scowled. Nate only shrugged in response as he stepped through the door into the agency.

The secretary, Ellie Perkins, peered up from a stack of papers and smiled. “Nate! I'm so glad you dropped in.” Her brown eyes gravitated to Scott, who munched on the mutfruit in boredom. “Who's your friend?”

“A nuisance,” Nate answered. Scott’s brows snapped together but said nothing.

Seemingly unfazed by Scott’s reaction, Ellie returned to her responsibilities of filing documents. “You here to check up on the case?”

“Any luck?”

“Nick managed to dig up some information. If you'd like, I could have Nick go over the details with you once he gets back.”

“Out on another case, I take it?”

“You know how Nick is.” Ellie chuckled. She shuffled a few documents into folders before setting them aside. “How are you holding up, Nate?”

“I’m doing alright.” Jabbing a thumb behind him to where Scott lingered, Nate grinned. “Currently babysitting as you can see.”

The comment generated a scowl from Scott who, instead of responding, folded his arms and glared daggers at the back of Nate’s head.

“I’ll check back in later today to talk to Nick,” Nate said, rising from the chair.

“I’ll be sure to let him know.”

Stepping outside, Nate headed toward the Dugout Inn with Scott trailing not far behind.

“So, what exactly is going on here?” Scott asked.

“I’ll explain when we get to the local bar.”

*****

Smoke drifted from the forgotten cigarette idling between Scott’s fingers, the ashes collecting upon the battered and worn counter. An unfamiliar song played from the jukebox, but that wasn't the center of his concentration. It was the man sitting next to him, whose eyes stared straight ahead while disclosing personal matters concerning the murder of his late wife and abduction of a son.

Nate ended the discussion by finishing off a beer, his face rigid and reserved. Not wanting to stir the shit pot, Scott turned his attention to the nearly depleted cigarette, smothering the so-called cancer stick in a nearby ashtray.

“I've got an appointment with Nick here shortly. He's been working the case on my son,” Nate said, standing up. “You're more than welcome to tag along.”

Scott shrugged but followed the older man back to the agency. He mentioned to Nate of remaining outside for another smoke before joining him, which Nate seemed reluctant on leaving him unattended but went inside anyway. Withdrawing the crumpled pack from his pocket, Scott stared at the three remaining cigarettes. He didn't recall burning through it so quickly, but since leaving Parsons State Insane Asylum a day ago, he's been on edge.

Adjusting to the sudden change of environments impacted Scott far greater than he anticipated. Between feral ghouls and deathclaws – creatures he’s yet to witness – themselves, he already despised the Commonwealth. Not that he was expecting a marvelous scenic route from Point A to Point B.

Scott placed a cigarette between his lips before lighting it. Snapping the flip lighter shut, he inhaled the nicotine while watching the clouds roll by. One of the patrolling guards studied him as they walked by, but said nothing, which is fine with Scott. He didn’t feel like interacting with any of the Diamond City residents.

 _Just here on business_ , Scott thought. He had finished the cigarette by the time Nate exited the building and gestured for the young man to follow him back inside.

Once inside, Scott froze, eyes wide when he spotted Nick Valentine standing next to Ellie. The detective glanced up noticing Scott’s reaction. Flicking his eyes over to Nate, Nick non-verbally expressed curiosity at the new guy standing in his office.

“Who's the kid?” Nick asked.

Nate shrugged. “Just someone tagging along.”

“Hmm.” Nick studied the young man with interest, his strange irises divulging nothing during the heavy scrutiny. “Another vault dweller?”

“No. Not a Vault dweller.”

Scott leaned over toward Nate whispering, “Is he a robot?” He then shoved his hands into the jean pockets, clearly nervous by the narrowing of eyes from the detective.

Peering at Nate after inspecting the newcomer, Nick said nothing as the vault dweller tried to refrain from frowning.

“We’ll be heading back to Sanctuary in the morning,” Nate said, casting a side glance at the young man idling next to him.

Scott didn't seem to be paying attention to Nate at this point as he avoided the synth’s gaze by perusing the small office space. “This is some… interesting post-war apocalypse stuff. Kind of…odd.”

“It'll grow on you,” Nick said, shuffling documents into a folder. He placed it onto his desk and returned his attention to the young man holding up a magnifying glass in puzzlement. “Where exactly are you from?”

Lowering the instrument, Scott darted his gaze back and forth between Nick and Nate. “Uh–”

“From Minnesota, right?” Nate interrupted in a serious tone.

Scott quirked an eyebrow. “Umm… sure?”

Before Nick could continue his interrogation, Nate walked towards the exit pulling Scott along with him. “We ought to get going. I’ll be sure to go over the information tonight. I owe you, Nick.”

Scott reluctantly allowed Nate to muster him out the door without saying goodbye to the detective. Stepping out into the street, Nate released his hold of the young man’s arm and began heading to his residence in Diamond City.

“You have robots?” Scott asked, a hint of fascination in his voice.

*****

The collected notes were arranged across the table. Nate already downed three cups of coffee in the last hour, but he wasn't getting anywhere thanks to lack of sleep. Nick managed to dig up information on Kellogg a few months ago, but it felt like chasing a damn ghost across the Commonwealth. Kellogg – the enigmatic bastard who murdered people for a living – would vanish without a trace by the time Nate arrived at the coordinates. Every. Damn. Time.

Nate yawned, half-debating on getting some sleep now that he's back at Home Plate in Diamond City. Unfortunately, he still had Scott to contend with. The young man lounged on the battered couch flipping through comic books rarely saying a single word since walking through the door.

As much as Nate tolerated Scott's presence, the guy's failure to comprehend the risks of venturing across the Commonwealth bothered him. Twice now he had to chastise Scott on the importance of common sense, and that was when they strolled into Diamond City. He lost count how many times he reminded the young man about the world, only to have a sarcastic response dished back at him.

“What exactly is a synth?” Scott asked, peering over at Nate from the couch.

The sudden question had Nate arching an eyebrow. “Basically, a robot in human form.”

“Aren't Mr. Handy’s robots?”

“Well, yes, but they're not the same.”

“But they're both _robots_. How are they not the same?”

Nate rubbed his forehead. “There are three different generations of synths. You have the Gen-1’s, which are nothing more than a protectron in android form. Gen-2’s is –”

“Like your buddy, Nick,” Scott interjected.

“Not quite. He's more or less an advanced prototype of a Gen-2 by possessing human thoughts and emotions.”

“And a nicotine addiction. How the hell does he inhale cigarettes?” Scott scratched his head in bafflement. “And why does he look like he's straight out of a noir crime novel?”

“Noir crime novel?”

“Long story. Anyway, you said there are three generations of synths. I'm assuming the next ones are called Gen-3’s. Am I right?”

“Yes. They're the third generation of synths and don't look any less different than you and me.”

“So, robots with fleshy parts.”

“Yeah, sure,” Nate said while rolling his eyes. “Robots with _fleshy_ parts.”

“Have you met a Gen-3?”

“There's Curie who was originally a Ms. Nanny. Guess that's close enough to encounter one if you rule out Glory.”

“Who's Glory?”

Hesitant to answer the question, Nate began gathering up the notes and placing them into a folder. “She, uh, works for a business.”

“She?” The young man lowered the comic book, now staring at Nate with those green eyes. “Gen-3’s has genders?”

“From what I know based on limited facts.”

“Huh.” Scott returned to flipping through the comic book.

“I'm going to get some sleep. Help yourself to whatever food or drinks I've got here. Just remember –”

“ _Radiation poisoning_. Yeah, I got it,” Scott waved dismissively without glancing away from the reading material.

*****

By morning, the two headed off from Diamond City to Sanctuary. Nate focused on the road ahead of him more than he did on the young man tagging along. Scott hardly spoke since leaving Diamond City other than mentioning a lack of cigarettes. Tossing a pack to the young man earlier in the day, Nate found relief in the silence between the two, but he knew that wouldn’t last forever.

“Soooo,” Scott started, kicking a rock aside as he followed Nate down the degrading road. “Looking for your kid’s abductors, huh?”

“Got a problem with that?”

“Nope. Not really.” Scott shoved his hands into the jacket, darting his gaze around. “Mind if I ask how you lost the trail?”

“As a matter of fact, I _do_ mind,” Nate snapped over his shoulder.

“Who fucking pissed in your cereal?”

Nate spun around, setting a cold stare on the younger man, who didn't seem fazed. “Look, dipshit. You're only tagging along with me until Jack gets that damn machine up and running.”

“You must be fun at parties.”

“Are you just naturally an asshole or did your parents not love you enough?”

Scott made a distinctive whistle. “Now _that_ was a low blow. Got any more you'd like to throw at me while you're at it?”

“You're not taking anything seriously, are you?”

“Should I?”

“We're smack dab in a middle of a post-apocalyptic world,” Nate said, “and the only thing you're capable of is spewing sarcasm.”

Scott shrugged. “Eh, it is what it is. So, where to now?”

Sighing, Nate pointed off in a direction. “We're heading back to Sanctuary.”

“Sanctuary?” Scott asked. Nate glared back at him and he quickly feigned a smile. “Uh, sounds cool to me.”

 _God forgive me if I strangle the shithead before the day is through_ , Nate thought to himself.


	3. Chapter 3

Sanctuary – the so-called haven for the people – wasn’t a sprawling metropolis like Scott thought it would be. The place was cozy. Scott gave it that, but the settlement was still in the process of being restored. The defenses were adequate for the size of the population, and the homes were going through renovations. Nate and the settlers put a lot of effort into Sanctuary just for a little piece of heaven in this already messed up hell.

“Everyone here pulls their own weight to make Sanctuary what it is,” Nate said upon entering the settlement. “It may not seem like much, but it provides an opportunity for those willing to work hard for it.”

“From what I’ve seen, it beats the alternative.” Glancing around, Scott noticed the rows of crops carefully attended to by some of the settlers. He could distinguish a few of the plants such as tomatoes and corn, but others were heavily corrupted by the radiation.

Nate gave him the grand tour of Sanctuary, summarizing the responsibilities of the locals, and repeating his earlier advice of radiation when Scott ogled the sizzling meat roasting nearby. Protesting earned a scowl from the older man and, begrudgingly, Scott trailed after him to continue the trek around the place.

Stopping by a warehouse built at the edge of a cul-de-sac with bits and parts of machinery and old metal plates leaning up against the exterior walls, Nate turned to address Scott. “I expect you to help out while you're here.”

“While I'm here?” Lifting an eyebrow, Scott could already foresee a disagreement with Nate. “I was hoping to find some means of sending a signal—”

“In case you haven't noticed, the Commonwealth lacks functional technology. If you're so damn adamant finding a way, you can take your chances with Jack.”

“That guy’s batshit crazy,” Scott said. “If you'd left me there he'd probably crack my head open like a watermelon for the sake of science.”

“Guess you should count your blessings then.” Pressing a red button, the warehouse door ascended revealing shelves of randomized parts, crates stacked against walls, workbenches, and various armaments and supplies. “This is our workshop. Here we do repairs, maintenance, and other jobs for settlements. Sturges usually runs this section so he’s the one you’ll be reporting to while here.”

As if on cue, a semi-restored sentry bot rolled around the corner with a man tagging not far behind. He glanced up noticing the two standing there and quickly shut down the robot with a control box. “I see you finally made your way back to Sanctuary. How was the trip to Parsons?”

“Nothing too out of the ordinary. But I did manage to find you an assistant. This is Scott,” Nate said, nodding toward the young man who gawked at the sentry bot in curiosity. “He’s a bit of a nuisance but should be able to handle whatever you throw at him.”

“The name’s Sturges.” The man approached, shaking Scott’s hand once he offered it in greetings. “I’m sure Nate here gave you the brief rundown of this here operation. I usually see to maintenance but won’t argue with the additional help. If you’ve got any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Well, I do have one. The hell is that thing?” Scott asked, pointing at the dormant robot.

Tapping a knuckle against the metal frame, Sturges peered up at it in admiration. “This here is a sentry bot. Military standard… or was. Had to rebuild it from the ground up just to get it operational. Still having some issues with its subroutines.”

“I’m a bit tech-savvy so I could probably look into it for you.”

Smiling, Sturges handed over the control box to Scott. “If you know your way around a computer then, have at it. That computer mumbo-jumbo never was my forte.”

“Now that you two have been acquainted, I’m going to go drop off some medical supplies to Curie,” Nate said. “Sturges, make sure you keep him in line.”

“Don’t you worry about that. Got plenty of jobs needing to be taken care of.”

Once Nate headed off, Sturges helped Scott familiarize the warehouse and where all the tools and equipment were stored. He soon led Scott along the cul-de-sac and entered another warehouse, where the young man gazed at the sets of power armor lining up against the walls.

“Pretty amazing, aren’t they?” Sturges asked.

“Interesting.” Scott walked over to one, sliding a hand over the rusted spots and trailing a finger along the deep grooves marring the metal chest piece. “What happened here?”

The mechanic stood next to Scott, smiling up at the thing. “Oh, that one? It’s got quite a story behind it.”

“Care to share?”

“About a year ago, Nate saved a bunch of our lives by dancing the tango with a deathclaw.” The man’s hand drifted up to the scars. “Nate got up close and personal with the damn thing and received these marks as a parting gift. The deathclaw flung him clear across the street and right into a building’s window. Luckily, Nate survived and managed to take down the damn beast before it could deal any more damage to him _and_ this suit of power armor.”

“Huh. He failed to mention his extravagant adventures with me,” Scott said. “So, is this chest piece salvageable or is he keeping it as an ornament?”

Sturges shrugged. “Pretty sure it’s some memorabilia of just how dangerous this world is.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly crossed paths with anything dangerous besides an irradiated mutfruit, which Nate chewed my ass out for trying to eat.”

The mechanic chuckled. “Nate can be a hardass, but if it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be here today.”

With a raised eyebrow, Scott frowned over at the other man. “People seem to appreciate him around here. The only thing I can be thankful for is him rescuing me from the clutches of a mad scientist.”

“You’ll get to know him over time,” Sturges said. “Anyway, I’ve got a suit of power armor needing some repairs. How about you come help me with that as your first job here in Sanctuary.”

*****

Floating about Sanctuary doing small projects and bantering with Sturges helped ease Scott’s irritation of being stuck at the settlement. He couldn't blame Nate for not being enthusiastic about traveling across the Commonwealth in search of technology. Even attempting to explain everything resulted in a puzzled look from the older man.

Scott spent a good hour negotiating with Nate, imploring the man to give some leeway so he could go in search of the material needed for the project. In the end, Nate shook his head and explained all over again how dangerous the Commonwealth is.

As dusk settled, Scott staked out a small secluded spot near the river to reassess his current situation. He still couldn't grasp how the settlers managed to withstand the environment and hardship of life. Overhearing some of the settlers discussing rad storms and monstrosities called deathclaws, for them to keep a settlement thriving while enemies eyed the place required a lot of determination and cooperation. And since Nate pretty much oversees the development of this place, his obligation resides here with the people. Not trudging along with Scott in search of technology that may or may not even work.

“How was your first day working with Sturges?” The voice startled Scott, but he sighed when Nate approached.

“Can’t complain. The guy knows his way around the workbenches.”

“That he does. Come on,” Nate said, waving for the young man to follow him. “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying.”

The two traveled along the path leading out into the street, making their way to a house situated across the warehouses in the cul-de-sac. Stepping into the home, Nate led Scott down a hallway to a room. “You can use this one for the time being.”

“Hmm. Cozy,” Scott mentioned as he looked around before sitting down in the faded recliner. “Anything else I should know about Sanctuary now that we’re rolling into day two?”

“I’m sure you got the gist of it by working alongside Sturges today,” Nate said. “Tomorrow, report back to Sturges and see if he needs any further help.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

*****

Throughout the morning Nate had the building plans and blueprints laid out across the floor, shuffling through them in between sips of coffee. He wasn’t always a morning person but ever since overseeing the rebuilding of Sanctuary he had no choice in viewing the documents while in town. Now that Scott’s been helping Sturges around the settlement, it provided Nate extra time to examine the blueprints.

Setting the empty cup aside, Nate sighed while rubbing his forehead. Some of the proposed plans required material stored away at a nearby settlement and he didn’t have the patience to retrieve them. Hell, he didn’t even want to burden the provisioners with the responsibility. Either way, he placed it aside for the time being.

Nate stood up, stretching out the aching muscles, and strolled onto the front deck of the temporary business building, not realizing how late in the afternoon it was. The sun dipped below the mountain ridges, and several of the residents were making their way to the nearby bar to unwind for the day.

“Want a beer?”

Glancing in the direction of the voice, Nate observed Scott dangling a bottle of Gwinnett Lager out with his hand.

“Sturges gave me a few of these. Thought you’d like one,” Scott said, handing the bottle of beer over to the older man as he walked onto the deck.

Nodding in gratitude, Nate sat down on the steps and popped off the cap. Scott soon joined by sitting down next to him, taking a long drink from a half-depleted Gwinnett bottle. They discussed ordinary things, exchanging stories of their previous occupations, and whatever else they found intriguing. Surprisingly, the two shared comment interests such as military training, running recon missions while in service, and an admirable taste for whiskey. Some of Nate’s questions were answered with a half-shrug from Scott - mainly involving family and friends – but he did manage to squeeze out a few responses such as Scott’s mother being in a science career and, shocking as it may be, he had a twin sister named Sara. But Scott refused to discuss much about his father, growing silent until Nate eventually changed the subject.

“I know I can be a hardass, but the Commonwealth isn’t very forgiving. Not after the bombs dropped.” Reaching into his back pocket, Nate retrieved the folded-up map and handed it over to Scott. “Here. Been meaning to give this to you. It’s a map of the Commonwealth I found in some military bunker a while back. I took the liberty of marking the locations that might interest you.”

Tucking the nearly depleted cigarette between his lips, Scott unfolded the map to skim over it. “Sudden change in attitude.” He glanced over at Nate, uncertain of the man’s motives. “You’re alright with me going out there on my own?”

“No,” Nate said, taking a swallow of alcohol. “But I also know I can’t force you to stay. Just hoping you have a good head on your shoulders.”

“As odd as it may be, what with you suddenly changing your mind…” A moment of silence lingered between the two men as Scott folded the map back up, took the cigarette from his lip and crushed it under a boot. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it.” Nate watched the young man get up and begin walking down the sidewalk before calling out. “Promise me you won’t get killed out there.”

Scott turned slightly, hesitant to respond. “Can’t make any promises but I’ll try not to get devoured and become deathclaw shit.”

A small grin appeared on Nate’s usually impassive face as he raised the bottle of beer. “If you’re ever in the neighborhood, always welcome to a beer.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Scott said before strolling away to retire for the night.

*****

By dawn, Scott had the essentials placed in a backpack and the rifle Nate provided to him inspected for any imperfections. He said his farewells to several of the settlers on the way to the bridge, anxious to finally be traveling again. It felt depressing in a way to be leaving Sanctuary behind, but at the same time frightening by exploring across a land he barely understood. Thoughts occupied by the endless possibilities of discovery, Scott rounded the bend spotting Nate a few yards ahead of him. The older man leaned against the Red Rocket fuel sign, staring down the road in the opposite direction.

As Scott approached, Nate glanced over his shoulder. “Thought you’d be heading out this early in the morning.”

“More daylight to travel by,” Scott said. “You here to say your goodbyes?”

“Nope.” Bending down to grab his own backpack, Nate walked over to the young man. “I’m going with you.”

“Won’t you be needed in Sanctuary?”

“That’s why I’ve got Preston and Sturges. Those two can hold down the fort in my absence. Besides,” Nate grinned, “Someone has to make sure you don’t end up as deathclaw shit.”

“Very funny,” Scott said dryly. “Any last-minute pieces of advice?”

“Don’t shoot me in the ass,” came the other man’s response, casting a wry smile at the young man before turning and proceeding down the road.


	4. Chapter 4

Dried up vegetation crunched underfoot as the two men trekked along a trail. According to Nate, it's the safer route to their destination, but according to Scott, it steered them away from the sprawling buildings he desperately wanted to explore.

Peering over the edge of the map, Scott watched as Nate adjusted a device clasped around the left wrist. He didn't recall the man wearing it earlier nor during their first introduction, but the ergonomic design caught his attention. The older man tapped at the screen, frowning in the long, drawn-out silence before lowering the hand to his side.

“Mind if I ask what that is?” Scott spoke up.

Nate glanced back over his shoulder, face contorted as if he vaguely remembered Scott following behind him. “It's a Pip-Boy.”

Folding up the map, Scott jogged up next to the man. “What exactly does it do?” he asked, gawking at the unusual gadget in curiosity.

“It’s an instrument used as a database.” Hesitant on divulging information to someone he barely knew, Nate raised the device high enough for the young man to study it.

“Lots of fancy thingamajigs on that thing.”

“Thingamajigs?” Raising an eyebrow, Nate glanced over at the young man strolling next to him, who appeared captivated by the Pip-Boy at the moment.

Prodding at the knobs with a finger, Scott’s eyes widened when he tapped at a gauge. “Is that a Geiger counter?”

“Yeah. That’s a Geiger counter. Now quit talking.” Nate lowered the Pip-Boy and focused on the trail ahead, desperate for the conversation to end. The silence resumed for another minute until being interrupted by the young man beside him.

“You know, I’ve got something similar to that fancy device of yours.”

Still not wanting to engage in a discussion, Nate mumbled, “Oh, really?”

“It’s called an omni-tool. Unfortunately, mine doesn’t seem to work now, which is disappointing.” Scott sighed, solemnly peering down at a wrist. “I kinda like the blade aspect of it.”

Now Nate stared at the young man in confusion. “Blade?”

“It’s a weapon made of silicon-carbide,” Scott said enthusiastically. When Nate raised a skeptical eyebrow, Scott continued explaining the primary functions. “There’s this fabrication module that helps construct necessary tools and so forth. It also has a scanner, a camera, and a flashlight. Once I get the damn thing repaired, I could show you had badass it is.”

“Lots of fancy lingoes you’ve got there,” Nate said, still somewhat puzzled by everything he just heard. “I’ll just take your word for it.”

They fell into silence again, trudging through the long-dead foliage and trees until encountering an abandoned campsite. Nate didn’t move at first, searching for any signs of traps while motioning for Scott to stay back. Maneuvering around the area cautiously, he glimpsed at the collapsed tent a few feet away. Whoever constructed this campsite left in a hurry guessing by the shoddy cleanup. Finally determining the area to be safe, he walked over to the campfire to examine it.

Nudging the blackened firewood with a toe of his boots, Nate noticed the weathered compression of the ashes and soot. “This camp’s been abandoned for some time.”

Prying free a duffle bag from the soil, Scott watched as empty aluminum cans tumbled through a gaping hole before throwing the useless bag away. “You think there’s anything worth salvaging?”

“Possibly,” is all Nate said as he inspected random containers and miscellaneous junk.

“Would this be of any use?” Scott asked nearby, holding up a box with the word _screws_ scribbled hastily across it. “It fell out with the cans.”

“It should come in handy.” The young man tossed the box to Nate, and he carefully inspected the contents within. “Looks to be around ten or more screws in here. Not sure if they've been stripped though.”

Scott walked across the campsite to where a steel plating lay embedded into the ground. Lifting and moving it aside, he tugged at a container half-buried in the earth. It finally gave, sliding free from the soil, and he crouched down to unlatch the lid and sort through the items. “Well, there's a bunch of ammo. I'm guessing the former owners were expecting some trouble.”

“Probably why they left in a hurry,” Nate said. He crouched down next to Scott, picking up a box consisting of .308 ammunition. “How's your ammo count for the rifle?”

“Full magazine but that's about it.”

Nate held the box out to the young man. “Here. More than likely you'll need it. Especially if we run into raiders or Gunners.”

Scott shrugged, accepted the ammo and continued rummaging through the container as Nate moved around the small encampment. An excited shout of praise later and the young man held up a machete with a serrated blade.

Nate quirked an eyebrow at Scott’s amusement as the young man inspected the weapon. “It's just a machete.”

“Yeah, but I always wanted one growing up.” Scott tested the sharpness of the weapon by chopping at a nearby block of wood in a fluid motion, grinning while wrenching it free afterward. “It's still sharp too.”

“Hooray,” Nate mumbled under his breath.

They eventually departed, returning to trekking along the trail. With Nate tapping diligently at the Pip-Boy’s map ahead of Scott, the young man gawked at the surroundings, imagining what the world once looked like over two hundred years ago. Lost in thought, he didn't hear what Nate said until he bumped into the man’s idling form.

“Do you mind?” Nate huffed, brown eyes focusing on the device’s screen in concentration. A few seconds ticked by before the man exhaled, peering now at Scott. “We’re getting close to the relay tower. Also, do me a favor and keep your guard up. Never know what we’ll run into.”

Mimicking a salute, Scott snapped to attention with a, “Aye, aye, capitán,” which Nate just rolled his eyes to in response.

Making their way to the relay tower, they avoided areas Nate identified as dangerous or occupied by hostiles such as raiders or Gunners. On occasions, they’d cross paths and easily dispose of with a few mole rats.

Staring up at the looming tower, Scott double checked the map given to him earlier in the day, shrugged, and placed the map into his back pocket. “Guessing this is the first relay tower we’ll be investigating.”

“Just make it quick,” Nate said, eyeing a few roaming scavengers a few yards out, who appeared disinterested in the two men during their rummaging of old buildings.

Scott hopped up onto the platform to access the terminal and quickly wiped away the dirt and grime from the monitor with a sleeve before proceeding. Deliberately tapping at the keys, he furrowed his eyebrows when the computer flashed some nonsensical message across the screen. “This is some old school technology.”

“It was _advanced_ technology back before the bombs dropped,” Nate reminded the young man.

“If you say so.” A few inputs later, Scott bypassed the security measure and browsed the directory.  “Hmm.”

“Something wrong?”

“If it's been sitting here for over two hundred years, why haven't the satellite dishes been extended yet?”

“Probably because no one could hack their way through the terminal,” came Nate’s response as he continued surveilling the area with caution.

“It wasn't _that_ difficult. Select a few words and you're in. Shitty security measure to be honest.” Scott pressed the _Enter_ key and watched in mild fascination as the satellite dishes extended upward. “Getting anything on that doodad of yours?”

“You mean the Pip-Boy?”

“Yeah,” Scott waved dismissively, “That thing.”

Tuning to the radio, Nate flipped through the broadcasts. “There's some sort of distress signal coming in, an alert broadcast, and a bozo selling chems. Other than that, nothing.” Nate flipped the radio off shortly afterward.

“Guessing it's not going to be missed too terribly bad if I dismantle the relay tower.”

Nate frowned in a concerned way, tilting his head slightly at the idea. “Seriously?”

“What?” Shoulders raised in a shrug, Scott quirked an eyebrow. “It’s scrap metal you could use.”

“Thought you were searching for a transmitter.”

“Right. It doesn't seem to have what I need anyway.” Scott leaped down to the ground below, surveying the landscape with disinterest. “Brown, brown, and browner. Oh, look! Shittier ass brown.”

“Your point being?”

“Huh? Is that a tank?” Curiosity got the better of Scott as he made his way through the chain-link fence and toward the object in question with Nate trailing behind. “I'll be damned. Get a few of these bad boys up and running and you'd be a force to be reckoned with.”

“And _how_ exactly would we get the tank from here to Sanctuary?” Nate banged on the exterior shell. “Damn thing weighs over sixty tons or more.”

“Well,” Scott started, seemingly uneased at the sight of skeletal remains. “They didn't seem successful at digging it out of the muck. So, um, any ideas?”

“Please tell me you're not considering on dragging this tank back to Sanctuary,” Nate said, glowering now at the young man, who shifted uncomfortably.

“To be honest, I wouldn't be able to drag it back to Sanctuary.” Pacing around the tank in keen observation, Scott stopped and turned toward Nate with a mischievous grin. “Men in power armor might do the trick. Besides, I’m not some brawny looking fella like you?”

“Like me?” Granted, Nate wasn't by any means gangly or lanky. A year of laboring and hard work showed in his physique, but the snarky response goaded him more than he assumed. “You have a shitty way with words, you know?”

Those green eyes darted back to the tank, reconsidering his choice of words before glancing back at Nate. “Eh, maybe not the correct way of wording it—”

“You think?”

“Alright, let me rephrase that,” Scott said. “I'm in no condition of moving this here object alone.”

“It'll take more than two men to budge this.”

“That’s where power armor comes in.” Scott scratched at his chin in thought, ignoring the raised eyebrow of the other man. “Although…”

“The answer is _no_.”

The echo of a nearby gunshot drew the two men’s attention from the abandon military tank. Nate scanned the area, muttering about the lingering scavengers riling up a hoard of feral ghouls when the chorus of gunfire interrupted him. Without hesitation, he grabbed Scott by the sleeve, dragging the young man to the other side of the tank before checking his rifle.

“I'm assuming this is a daily routine in the life of Nate...Trujillo was it?” Scott already had his rifle readied, slipping a concerned glance at the man crouched down next to him.

“Usually,” Nate said. “Doubt the festivities involve us though.”

“Meaning?”

“Scavengers probably spooked some Gunners or raiders over there by the buildings. Hence why we're not getting pelted with bullets.”

Scott shrugged. “Makes sense. Think we'd be able to slip away without being noticed?”

“Not in broad daylight.” Chancing a glance around the corner, Nate counted the overly-aggressive hostiles duking it out several yards away. “Seems my assumption is correct.”

“How so?”

“Scavengers got into a pissing contest with a roaming band of raiders.” Returning his attention to the idling young man next to him, Nate nodded in the direction of the old relay tower. “Hoping you got what you needed because I highly doubt we'll get a second chance. Not unless the numbskulls take each other out.”

“Didn't find what I needed,” Scott said, shaking his head. “Any other relay towers in the vicinity?”

Lifting the Pip-Boy up, Nate examined the map. “There's one located near Oberland Station. The only problem with that is finding a path around the squabbling imbeciles.”

“Any words of wisdom from _ye ol’ general_?”

“Don't mock me,” Nate said, scowling at the young man. “I'm risking my ass helping you out. Show some appreciation.”

“Didn't have to tag along.”

“Someone has to babysit you while you go gallivanting across the Commonwealth.”

“Well, _general_ ,” Scott smirked. “A babysitter wouldn't jeopardize the safety of the individual in their care by dragging them through territorial disputes. So, if anything, you're more or less a glorified chaperone.”

“Fair enough.” Studying the map once more, Nate signaled for Scott to follow him along the slope of the hills, both avoiding detection from the clashing factions near the crumbling buildings. By the time they slipped past the fray and steered toward Oberland Station, the sun began to descend.

Nate muttered under his breath while Scott gazed at the facility that was formerly known as Beantown Brewery prior to the Great War.

“Too bad that place isn’t operational,” Scott said. “Could really go for a beer right about now.”

“That’ll have to wait until we get to Diamond City.” Scrolling through the Pip-Boy, Nate barely noticed the soft rumbling echoing from somewhere behind him.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Nate glanced back at the young man, who kept staring upward nervously. He soon followed, scanning the sky expecting the sound to be nothing more than a vertibird scouting nearby. In a streak of smoke and fire, a circular object plummeted, illuminating the landscape far ahead of them in an explosion. “What the—”

Both men gaped at the burning wreckage dotting the terrain while failing to notice a second object plunging to the earth in the opposite direction.


	5. Chapter 5

Nate stood mystified overlooking the unusual aircraft, only to slowly pan his gaze from the burning wreckage to Scott snickering a few feet away. “What's so funny?”

“Nothing,” Scott responded, trying to maintain a straight face.

Rolling his eyes for what felt like the billionth time today, Nate began the long trek downhill following the green splatters dotting the ground. “More than likely it's been injured.”

“ _It_? You already theorizing it's an alien just by the green globs of goo?”

“What else could it be?”

“I don't know,” Scott shrugged. “Maybe it's speckles of _radiation_.”

“If it was radiation, my Geiger counter would be going off, which it clearly isn't,” Nate said, emphasizing his response by tapping at the Pip-Boy.

“Touché.”

Following the tracks lead them to a small cave opening. Sharing knowing glances, Nate stepped closer to the entrance. “Trail ends here. Guess we'll find out what’s in there.”

“I swear if it's a green alien with big bug eyes similar to those old movies, I'm going to be seriously offended.”

“Offended? How?”

“Not _all_ aliens are tiny, green men shooting laser beams at people,” Scott said, rolling his eyes at the man. “Sometimes they'll use your bones to pick their teeth like toothpicks.”

“You've got quite the imagination there, which is somewhat alarming.”

“I get that quite a lot.”

“I wonder why,” came Nate’s response as he ventured forth.

At first, neither of them noticed anything out of the ordinary when entering the small cave. Mainly consisting of dirt, pieces of scattered garbage, and a ham radio broadcasting a looped message, it looked like a stereotypical cavern. Well, up to the point until Nate discovered the remains of some unknown organism lying in a puddle of green liquid.

“Offended yet?” Nate asked, hovering over the alien corpse.

“I don't know what I expected.” Scott frowned down at the strange creature, appearing slightly disappointed by the discovery. “You think Crazy Jack would be interested in it?”

Scowling, Nate crossed his arms and looked over at the young man. “I am _not_ dragging an alien corpse across the Commonwealth.”

Snapping his fingers when an idea emerged, Scott pivoted toward the other man with a grin. “Maybe if we crafted a makeshift capsule, put the alien inside, and rocketed it to the insane asylum–"

“ _You_ have some inventive ideas wobbling inside that cranium of yours. Kinda regretting I didn't leave you behind to be Jack’s little science experiment. Might have spared me the insanity.”

Scott slowly raised a middle finger in the direction of Nate, who simply ignored the insulting gesture. “I could kill you in your sleep, you know?”

“No, you couldn't,” Nate said, bending down to search the dead alien’s gear. A gleam from the creature’s hand drew his attention, and he moved to pry the strange object from its grasp. Finally retrieving it, he stood back up studying the unusual pistol-like design.

“What's that?” Scott asked, nodding at the item with a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

“It's some sort of alien weaponry,” Nate said, rotating the object in his hands. “Didn't expect aliens to actually look,” gesturing to the corpse, “like _that_.”

Scott snorted derisively, panning his eyes across the cave in mock boredom even though he dared a few fleeting glances at the corpse. “Yeah. We probably should leave before more of these _aliens_ arrive to seek vengeance.”

Nate only grunted in response, stepping away from the dead alien and leaving the cave. A few seconds later, he hollered, “Let's go, dipshit.”

Casting one final glance at the corpse, Scott strode out of the cave.

Nate hated the way Scott kept peering over at him with that dubious look whenever the subject of extraterrestrials was brought up, but he decided against pressing the subject further when they traveled closer to Diamond City.

Skimming through the Pip-Boy’s map for other satellite arrays, Nate made a mental note to avoid certain areas surrounding questionable places. “Tomorrow we could swing by the WRVR broadcasting station. Doubt the occupants would be pleased with you disassembling their business, so, we’ll ask if they encountered any salvageable transmitters instead. By traveling east we'll run into a relay tower next to a salvage yard,” Nate drawled on and on, reciting locations on the map, while Scott continued kicking rocks a few feet back. “There's a satellite array up north that was once operated by the United States Armed Forces.”

Scott perked up immediately when Nate mentioned the military branch. “Sounds promising. You think we could swing by there tomorrow?”

“What?” Nate stopped to glance back at Scott. “The military satellite arrays?”

“Yeah. Shouldn't we head there next?”

“Sure,” Nate said with a shrug. “Only if you want to be dinner for a bunch of super mutants.”

“Super mutants?”

“Big ugly green brutes. Slow-witted, the vocabulary of a five-year-old. Can't miss them.” Resuming their walk back to Diamond City, Nate studied the map further, calculating the time it would take to visit some of the locations.

“So,” Scott piped up after a moment of silence between the two, “I'm taking it’s a no for the military satellite array.”

“Got that right.”

Strolling toward the entrance into Diamond City, Nate lowered his Pip-Boy to frown at the scene before them. Apparently, the mayor ordered for the gate to be closed preventing the duo from entering. The standard protocol in placing the city on lockdown usually involved hostile super mutants parading about, or whenever Institute synths swept nearby areas. Raiders weren’t intelligent enough to seize control of the place, and the Gunners used it as an outlet for intel and supply runs. Either way, both him and Scott were barricaded off from the city, which didn’t sit well with him.

“Now we're back at the great green jewel of the Commonwealth,” Scott said cheerfully, hands on hip and a slight smirk edging his lips. “Can’t believe a former baseball stadium got turned into a cruddy metropolis.”

“The gate is closed,” came the seething voice of Nate next to him.

“Yep. The great green jewel and all its... _greenness_.” Glancing over to the clearly annoyed Nate, Scott quirked up an eyebrow. “Why’s the gate closed?”

“Goddamn Danny,” Nate grumbled, heading over to the intercom. He pressed the button, waited, and impatiently pressed the button several more times until Danny finally responded. “Why is the entrance blocked off?”

“ _Mayor McDonough said there are super mutants close by and –"_

“Tell Mayor McDonough to go fuck himself!” Nate yelled. “Now open this damn gate, Danny, or so help me I'll kick your fucking ass!”

_“I can't continue being insubordinate –"_

“Insubordinate? Do you even know what that word means?”

 _“If Mayor McDonough finds out I let another person in against his orders, I’ll end up losing my desk job, and I_ really _like my desk job."_

Nate bristled, pointing an accusing finger at the intercom. “The only reason why you’re refusing to open the gate is that you’re a goddamn coward!” Throwing a few more insults into the intercom, Nate spun around and stormed past Scott. “Come on. We’ll have to hunker down over at Goodneighbor instead.”

Scott glanced at the irate vault dweller stomping away, back at the metal gate, and then back to the man again. Shrugging, he followed the infuriated man down the street and toward their next destination.

*****

Spending more time gawking at the tall infrastructures and crumbling highways above, Scott returned to steadying himself across a guardrail, tiptoeing across it like a tightrope. The seriousness of a post-apocalyptic world didn't weigh heavily on the young man’s shoulders, nor did the situation of getting locked out from Diamond City an hour ago. He casually strolled along with indifference, pausing to sate his curiosity whenever something of interest snared his attention. Nate protested at first but eventually learned to ignore it. The young man would come stumbling after him anyway. _If_ he doesn’t get too distracted by random shiny objects.

They walked around a corner to where a sign displaying _Goodneighbor_ in bright, neon lights pointed to the main entrance. Heading toward a blue metal door, Nate paused, turning to address the curious young man next to him. “Mind yourself while you’re here. It’s not exactly Diamond City, but some of the people here aren’t the trustworthy type.”

“If they’re not so trustworthy, why are we here?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it’s nighttime and we need a place to stay till morning,” Nate said, folding his arms and fixing a stern gaze at the young man. “I’ve got a few friends here. We should be relatively safe staying with them. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“What? Me? Doing something stupid? Never,” Scott said, waving dismissively. “Uh, you still want me to tell people I’m from Minnesota and not from some portal looking thingamabob that mysteriously defied space-time continuum?”

“Preferably.” Nate placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder, grinning somewhat mischievously. “Or you could tell them you’re an Institute spy. I heard they’re big fans of the enigmatic group. Hell, they might even ask for your autograph. With bullets.”

Scott narrowed his eyes at the man. “I’ll just stick with the Minnesota story instead.”

“Suit yourself,” Nate said, opening the door.

Goodneighbor still looked the same for Nate minus the reduced rat population, thanks to several of the cats roaming about. But for Scott, it was a whole new place just waiting to be studied, or until he got a big sniff of urine and decay.

“Welcome to Goodneighbor,” Nate said upon entering the town. “Where all your criminal dreams come true.”

“Did you just say, ‘ _criminal dreams_ ’?” Scott asked, clearly uncertain of remaining within the vicinity. His nose wrinkled in disgust from the stench as he swatted away a few gnats. “Smells more like urinal dreams.”

“It's a gateway to illegal activities if you want the truth of it.” Smiling slightly at the uneasiness conveyed in Scott’s body language, Nate continued with the introduction. “Murderous plots, drug peddling, and overpriced provisions. You'll find it all here in Goodneighbor.”

“I'm not going to get shanked or abducted here, am I?”

“Probably. Stick with me and you'll be fine.”

Nervously chuckling, Scott eventually met Nate’s gaze. “Why? You some sort of crime lord or something around here?”

“Nah. That's Marowski’s job.” Moving toward the red brick building, Nate waved for Scott to follow him. “I'm friends with the mayor. He's all right for being a doped-up ghoul. A bit touchy-feely with a penchant of stabbing a person or two, he's a damn good friend that you'll need on your side.”

“That I need on my side?”

“He's got contacts outside these walls,” Nate explained. “If you want to know, buy, or sell anything… he's your man. Trade routes and merchants open up valuable resources and intel.”

Swatting at a few more pesky gnats, Scott sighed when the stench wasn’t so severe near the building. “I'll keep that in mind.”

Nate paused at the paint-chipped door to peer over his shoulder at the young man. “One last thing. The mayor’s a bit vulgar and shameless. So, don't take offense if he starts flirting with you.”

“What?” Scott asked while adjusting the knitted cap on his head.

“‘ _A lover of all kinds.’_ His words. Not mine.” Without further distractions, Nate opened the door and proceeded in with Scott quickly following behind. One of the Neighborhood Watch men greeted Nate with a tip of a hat before casting a cautious glance at the young man next to him. “We're here to see Mayor Hancock.”

“He's upstairs in his office.” Nodding toward Scott, the guard raised an eyebrow. “He's with you?”

“Yeah. A friend of mine,” Nate responded.

The man studied Scott in silence for several seconds. “Best you keep an eye on your friend then. The young, pretty ones don't last long around here.”

“I can handle myself,” Scott snapped back.

“Whatever you say,” the guard chuckled, walking away.

Nate steered Scott toward the flight of stairs wishing to avoid an altercation with the Neighborhood Watch. “Just keep your cool while we're here, okay?”

Scott glowered instantly at Nate. “What the hell does he mean by the _young, pretty ones_ not lasting long?”

“Drug addiction and unfavorable conflicts within the population mostly,” Nate said, moving further up the stairs, “but there have been known cases of abductions within the Commonwealth and slave trafficking further west.”

“Seriously? It's like you're repeating history all over again,” Scott grumbled.

The instant Nate pushed open the double doors into Hancock’s office, he watched as Scott tripped through the threshold and tumbled near where the mayor stood.

“Falling for me already, huh?” the ghoul jested, grinning down at the young man. “I'm flattered.”

“Hancock,” Nate said, giving a brief nod to the mayor before helping Scott off the floor.

“Nate,” Hancock returned the formalities, eyes drifting over the frazzled young man attempting to straighten his clothing. “Who's the stud muffin?”

“Stud muffin?” Scott repeated, now less focused on his attire and more agitated by the nickname. Balling up his fist, he met the ghoul’s eyes. “Who the hell do you think –"

“His name is Scott,” Nate intervened, scowling at the young man hard enough to get him to clam up, “and Scott is here _silently_.” He made sure to emphasize the last word, grateful the other man backed off and stood quietly near the doorway.

Seemingly unfazed, Hancock just smiled as he moved across the room to settle down behind the wooden desk. Withdrawing a bottle of whiskey from a drawer, he slid it across the desk’s surface. “You look like you could use a drink.”

Nate picked up the bottle, rotating it to examine the label. “You always did know my type of poison.”

“What can I say,” the ghoul grinned, “I take damn good care of my friends.”

“Then you wouldn't mind helping me out with a problem.”

“Oh?” Hancock tilted his head slightly, a smirk edging his lips. “You here to tell me you've finally decided to have a taste of _ghoulish_ pleasure?”

“Keep dreaming.” Nate twisted the cap off the bottle and took a swig of alcohol.

“Every night before I go to sleep. Sometimes twice if I'm ambitious enough.” Hancock's eyes gravitated to where Scott waited, the sly smirk never once fading off his face. “But now I have another reason to dream.” The ghoul’s lips widened when he noticed the rosy hue of the young man’s cheeks.

“Quit thinking with your cock,” Nate said, holding out the bottle of whiskey to the mayor. “No pun intended.”

“Aww, you're no fun.” Hancock accepted the drink, taking a gulp of the burning alcohol before handing it back to Nate. “Since you’re not here to have a taste of Han _cock_ , I assume you’re here for something else.”

“Diamond City went on lockdown. Apparently, your dumbass brother decided a roaming band of super mutants would jeopardize he reign.”

“Yeah. McDonough was always the idiot out of us two,” Hancock said, scratching at his chin. “And he definitely wasn’t the handsome one either.”

“Mayor McDonough is your brother?” Scott blurted out. Both Nate and Hancock peered back at the young man idling near the doorway. “Sorry. My bad. I’ll go back to being silent.”

“You normally this chatty, stud muffin?” Hancock once more smiled playfully. “If so, why don’t you start by telling me where you hail from? You seem a little too pristine to be the average scavenger toiling about.”

“Is that sarcasm?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow. “That sounds a lot like sarcasm.”

Hancock shifted his gaze back to Nate, who cleared his throat after taking another swig of whiskey. He watched the awkwardness play out between the two men in silence, and after a few shifty glances and raised eyebrows, he leaned back in the chair with a smug look on his face. “Now _this_ is interesting. A riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.”

“Hey! I know that one!” Scott piped up. “It’s a quote from Winston Churchill’s radio broadcast from 1939, which was over eight hundred years ago.”

The ghoul narrowed his eyes at the young man. “Eight hundred years ago?”

“We’re in the twenty-third century still,” Nate reminded Scott, “As in the year 2288, remember?”

Baffled and amazed all at the same time, Scott’s eyes widened. “It is?” He started calculating something in his head, murmuring along the way until he nearly shouted in excitement. “Holy shit! I’m 125 years old!”

“I thought you said you were 24,” Nate said with an unrelenting stare.

“Uh, yeah! Right you are!” Chuckling nervously, Scott nodded a little too vigorously. “Just your average 24-year-old from Missouri!”

“Minnesota. You’re from Minnesota,” Nate once more corrected the young man.

Scott darted his eyes between the human and ghoul. “What he said.”

“So,” Hancock started after a moment of silence, “You two looking pretty damn good for being over a century old.”

“On that note, we need a place to stay till morning,” Nate said.

“I figured.” Rifling through a drawer, Hancock eventually held out a key. “Here. These are the keys to Bobbi No-Nose’s old place. Don’t worry. We already cleaned it up and filled in the hole in the wall. You shouldn’t have to worry about any mirelurks scuttling around either.”

Accepting the keys, Nate nodded in gratitude. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it.” Hancock smiled as he watched both Nate and Scott head down the stairs. “Cute couple,” he said to no one in particular as he pulled out a stack of memos and reports to browse through. “Cute couple indeed.”


	6. Chapter 6

Goodneighbor still looked and smelled like a latrine, but a hundred times worse when the temperature spiked around noon. Scott was irritated, hungry, and desperately wanted a hot shower to wash away the filth. Instead, he resigned to slapping a smile on his face and act like he's thrilled to be in Goodneighbor; a place that reminded him of another shitty place but with less stench and more murders. He hated that place too.

They departed from Goodneighbor after Nate returned the keys and exchanged a few words with the mayor. Scott remained quiet this time, avoiding the ghoul's scrutinizing gaze by diverting his attention to random objects displayed about the room. Either Hancock sized him up out of safety or considered him as a contender for… whatever the relationship is between the mayor and Nate. Not that Scott was curious or anything, which is somewhat of a lie. He was a little bit curious.

With Nate glancing at his Pip-Boy every few minutes, and Scott ping-ponging his eyes from one crumbling building to another, they traveled along a route the older man claimed would take them across the Charles River.

Barely listening to Nate’s explanation of raiders sabotaging or safeguarding bridges, he nearly collided with a Mister Handy who hovered around a barricade.

“Why, hello there, sir!” the odd robot greeted joyfully. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

Scott blinked. “Uh—”

The Mister Handy’s incessant introduction went on, as it ignored the confused young man. “Welcome to the Cabot estates! Please keep off the grass during your visit.”

“Did you say the Cabot’s?” Scott asked.

“Yes, sir, I did! The Cabot family has lived here for generations!” During the robot’s entire spiel of the Cabot family history, a sentry bot zipped around the property, heading straight for the small group, and almost bulldozed over the Mister Handy in the process.

“Move along. Authorized personnel only.” The sentry bot spun the equipped miniguns, emphasizing its warning.

Scott darted his eyes toward Nate, clearly nervous and cautious all at the same time.

“Just passing by,” Nate reassured the two automatons, ushering Scott to follow him.

“Stay off the grass,” the sentry bot responded, bonking the smaller robot while pivoting to return to patrolling the area.

Spinning slightly, Mister Handy waved cheerfully with the buzz saw-equipped arm, shouting, “Have a good day, sirs!” Scott didn't know if he should take the waving buzz saw as a subtle death threat, or an ominous sign of what's to come.

“Any way we could fit blowing that place up into our schedule?” Scott asked once they were out of sight, and trudging along the bridge. Nate didn't say anything but stared back at him as if even suggesting the idea was moronic. Rambling on some more, Scott hopped over cracks and holes while trailing a few feet behind.

“I'd hope by now you'd be less talkative and more vigilant,” Nate said. “It seems I've been mistaken.”

“You could just tell me to shut up—”

“Shut up.”

“—which I'll clearly disregard and resume talking your ears off anyway,” Scott continued. “I find it both humorous and satisfying to annoy you.”

Nate groaned but kept his focus on the road ahead while trying his best to ignore Scott.

“I just have one question,” Scott said, disregarding the stern gaze from the older man. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Satellite Station Olivia further up north.”

“What about the Revere one?”

“The one crawling with super mutants?”

“Yes. Could we still swing by and—”

“No.”

Scott said nothing afterward, choosing to admire the view of decaying buildings, miles of the endless color of brown, and other random stuff. He spun around to look back at Boston, and immediately noticed the hovering blimp-looking object near the coast.

Eyes widening in excitement, Scott nearly tripped walking backward. “Is that an airship of some sort? What's it made of? How come I never noticed it until now? Can we go check it out?”

“No, we're not taking a detour to go check it out,” Nate snapped.

Scott, renewed once more with enthusiasm, pivoted back around and jogged up next to Nate. “Who owns it? Do you think the owner will give us a tour?”

Nate stopped in his tracks, fixing a stern gaze at the energetic young man. “The _airship_ is called the Prydwen, and its _owner_ is the Brotherhood of Steel.”

“Cool,” Scott said smiling. “That's one of the factions, right? It's a bit difficult knowing who's what and what's not—”

“Yes. And we're not backtracking either.”

Eyeing Nate as he stomped past, Scott bolted after the man to plead his case. “How about we swing by after I locate and deliver a transmitter to Crazy Jack?”

“The answer is still no.”

“Uh, after we—”

“No.”

Narrowing his eyes, Scott maneuvered ahead of Nate, cutting the man off by standing in his way. “Do you have a problem with this so-called Brotherhood of Steel or something?”

When Nate tried stepping around Scott, the young man countered by moving once more in front of him. “Get the hell out of my way.”

“Not until you answer my question,” Scott demanded, folding his arms and glowering back.

“If I tell you, will you stop pestering me about it?” Nate asked. Scott nodded in agreement, and, with a heavy sigh, Nate discussed several of his encounters with the Brotherhood of Steel but left out the detail of his actual involvement and initiation. When Scott seemed satisfied with the response, Nate shoved past him to move on. “So, there you have it. Tin men claiming to be saviors of the Commonwealth.”

Following close behind, Scott asked, “Why haven't I encountered any of them yet?”

“Why do you ask so many damn questions?”

“Because I'm naturally curious,” Scott said, giving that smirk of his again. “Plus, I find traveling and history to be interesting. At my last job… uh, the one prior to my current one… whatever. Anyway, I was basically a paper pusher. Boring ass job behind a desk type of thing.”

“Did you talk everyone else's ears off as much as you do to mine?”

“Not really. Maybe,” Scott scratched at his chin in contemplation. “Although, people always seem to warm up to me. I've always been a people person and it worked out for me in the long run.”

“So, you're basically an extrovert,” Nate said sarcastically. “An _annoying_ extrovert.”

“Precisely. Also, it's advantageous for leadership skills. Did I tell you when I—”

“If you value your life, you’ll learn to close that damn mouth of yours.” Glaring daggers at Scott, Nate watched as the young man slowly close his mouth. Thankful to find a small amount of solace, Nate returned to walking.

“You're not a nice person,” Scott mumbled.

The two continued the journey, allowing the tension between them to drag on through silence, which suited Nate just fine. He could already sense a headache coming on from all of Scott’s damn babbling. Except… the peace and quiet wouldn’t last for much longer.

A panicking shriek behind Nate had him spinning around in alarm. Scott stood swinging a damn machete at a bug while yelling, “Fuck off!”

Scott’s aim found its mark slicing through the creature’s thorax and abdomen, covering him in rancid slime and larvae in the process. He froze, green eyes widening in sudden realization as the oozing remains coated the hair and slid down his face. Suddenly, as if he finally snapped back to reality, he began swinging the blade in the air, stomping on wriggling larvae and shouting, “I fucking hate this world!”

Nate just stood there gawking, uncertain of what to do now. The scene displaying before him would have been comical if it wasn't for the fact he preferred remaining impassive out of spite against Scott. But he let a small smile slip without noticing.

When Scott finally exhausted himself with the bout of rage, he managed to huff out curse words to no one in particular. Leaning forward while attempting to catch his breath, Scott looked up at Nate through sweat and gunk drenched strands of hair. “Why are you smiling?”

And the small smile faded only to be replaced by a firm line of disapproval. “I'm not smiling.”

Standing upright, Scott slid the machete back into its sheath and walked over to where the other man stood. “You were smiling! I know you were! Don't try to deny it!”

“I deny ever smiling in your presence.”

“You're finally warming up to me,” Scott beamed, extending his arms out toward Nate. “This calls for a celebration hug!”

“Don't you fucking _dare_ hug me.”

Scott slumped his shoulders in disappointment soon afterward. “You’re a grouch.”

“And you're obnoxious,” Nate responded. “Now, if you're done making an ass of yourself, let’s get to the damn satellite station before sundown.”

*****

Arriving at the Olivia satellite station, Nate swept his eyes across the area expecting another band of raiders to have occupied the place. Unfortunately, a group of super mutants decided to make it their home instead.

“Just like the Revere satellite arrays,” Nate mumbled.

Scott raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing.” Glancing once more at the lumbering green brutes, Nate crouched down next to Scott. “Stay low and out of sight. We may have the element of surprise, but super mutants can still be dangerous. Keep an eye out for the suicidal ones.”

“How can I tell them apart from the others?”

“They’ll be rushing towards you with a mini-nuke in hand.”

“Lovely,” Scott scoffed. “Your world just keeps getting better and better.”

They made their way around the satellite station, taking extra precaution to avoid detection. Nate wasn’t sure how many were inside the building, but he counted roughly seven super mutants patrolling the area.

“We’ll need a distraction,” Nate said. “No telling how many are inside the facility.”

“Leave it to me.” Scott gave a thumbs up. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves. Just need one of those stealthy things.”

“Stealthy things? You mean a Stealth Boy?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Nate dug through his backpack to retrieve a Stealth Boy. “Remember. I said a distraction. _Not_ talk their damn ears off.”

“Yes, I know, Nate,” Scott said, rolling his eyes. “You make it sound like I’ve never done these types of missions.”

Ignoring the sarcastic tone of the young man’s voice, Nate held out the device. “Once you activate the Stealth Boy, you only have thirty seconds. So, make them count.”

Tucking the Stealth Boy away for usage, Scott looked at Nate. “Just be ready when you hear a big boom.”

“A big boom?” Nate asked, but Scott was already tiptoeing away. He watched as the young man darted in between boulders and trees, carefully maneuvering behind the super mutants, and then slipping around the corner of the building.

Nate waited for up to a minute before sneaking over to a closer position, patiently waiting for this _boom_ to occur. One of the super mutants stopped in their tracks, blocking his view of the front door. Half-expecting to have been noticed, Nate sighed in relief when the super mutant moved on. By this time, five minutes have passed since Scott disappeared, and Nate started wondering if the guy made a run for it and left him behind to deal with the damn brutes.

Just as Nate was about to lose patience, an explosion rumbled from within the facility. Several of the super mutants turned on their heels, making a beeline for the building, clearly agitated by the disruption.

 _Shit_. Nate watched them enter the place one at a time. _Double shit._

He slid from his hiding spot, treading lightly toward the entrance, and as he drew closer, another explosion sent the place shuddering. The door flew open, and Scott sprinted past him, followed by several enraged super mutants chasing after the young man.

Standing there confused, Nate watched as a lone chicken fluttered from the doorway in a frenzy of feathers.

“The fuck just happened?” Nate muttered. The only response to his question was the chicken’s squawk and tilting of its head. “Yeah, I know. He's crazy. And, apparently, so am I since I'm having a conversation with a damn chicken.”

The chicken angled its head again.

“Don't judge me,” Nate grumbled, eyeing the bird.

Whatever the hell Scott did to piss off the super mutants, it worked. With the remainder of the super mutants pursuing him, Scott pulled the pins off two frag grenades and tossed them behind before sliding down the rocky slopes to an excavation site. He could hear several super mutants screaming in agonizing pain when the grenades detonated, and, hopefully, it took those green-skinned bastards out of the equation.

Jogging past some guy wearing a hard hat - who just stared at him like he saw a ghost - Scott headed toward the blocks of cut stone. Slowing down enough to catch his breath, Scott glanced back and felt relief when none of the super mutants followed. However, that’s when it dawned on him that he left Nate behind at the satellite station.

Upon returning to the place, Scott stepped inside the building and saw Nate studying a terminal with a chicken strutting nearby.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Nate muttered when Scott approached.

“Took a little stroll.”

“Obviously.”

“Need any help with that?” Scott nodded to the terminal and Nate moved out of the way to go look around. It didn’t take long for Scott to bypass the security, which earned a scoff of jealousy from Nate.

“Big government organization spearheading secretive projects and their fucking security password is kittens. Seriously?” Shaking his head in disbelief, Scott accessed the stored entries, glossing over the reports dating back to 2076.”

“What did you expect?” Nate asked, tossing a few pieces of junk aside.

“A password equivalent to their government occupation.”

“You'd be surprised by how terrible their security is — _was_ even before the bombs fell.”

“Not even a single firewall in place.” Scott stepped away from the computer, making a beeline for the intel room. “Guess we'll start our search in there first.”

With both combing through the building, Scott eventually located a semi-functional transmitter. Granted, the device lacked a few key components necessary to get it running again but having it in their possession was a step forward with the project.

Mulling over some ideas on how to fix the transmitter, Scott slipped it into his backpack for easy transportation. “Well, I got what I needed. Just have to tinker with it some more before handing it over to Jack Cabot.”

“Good. We’re close enough to Sanctuary. So, let's head back while we still have some daylight.” Nate started walking to the exit just as the door burst open and a super mutant stepped through.

Hoisting up a missile launcher, the green-skinned brute shouted, “You’ll never leave here alive!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Insert screaming chicken gif]


	7. Chapter 7

“How can my day get any worse than this?!” Scott yelled, barely dodging an incoming missile. Plunging itself into the soil a few feet away, the ground trembled on impact, erupting upwards in a spray of earth and flames itself. Dirt, rocks and burning vegetation poured down upon him from the explosion, and he staggered across the loose, fractured soil.

The infuriated super mutant seemed hell-bent on enacting vengeance upon the two humans, who've slain its so-called brothers earlier at Satellite Station Olivia. Choosing to focus primarily on Scott, it loaded another missile into the launcher, shouting, “I'm gonna feast on your flesh, human!”

 _What little flesh remains from my charred corpse_ , Scott noted, leaping over a fallen tree log and continuing his sprint to safety.

A missile sailed past, detonating against a large tree. Groaning in the wake of the aftermath, the tree’s trunk splintered, cracking and tilting sideways straight into Scott’s path.

Scott felt something slam into him just prior to the tree toppling over, and he went rolling down the hillside eventually colliding against another tree. Gritting his teeth against the pain that burned through his entire body, he struggled to his feet with what little strength he had left. Wobbling, he pitched too far in one direction and ended up - or down - on the ground once more.

The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel in a frantic rush toward him, and a hand hauling him back to his feet moments later, he stared at the hazy face of Nate.

“Come on,” Nate said, dragging the young man along by the arm.

“I don't remember railroad tracks leading to Sanctuary,” Scott mentioned the instant he noticed them.

“We're not heading to Sanctuary. This is Bedford Station.” As if suddenly recalling a past event, Nate came to an abrupt halt with Scott still appearing dazed beside him. “I forgot about them.”

Pressing a palm against his forehead in an attempt to lessen a throbbing migraine, Scott flicked his eyes at Nate. “What about _them_?”

The ominous atmosphere of Bedford Station reminded Nate why he despised the place. From the creaking metal to the rusted remains of train cars, the mere thought of gnashing teeth and smell of decay was a warning bell in and of itself.

“Keep your guard up,” Nate whispered. “Feral ghouls have a tendency of roaming around this area.”

Instead of the notorious “ _Aye aye, captain_ ,” response, Scott simply nodded, albeit wincing in the process, his grip tightening slightly more on the rifle he miraculously held onto since leaving the satellite station.

Crossing the train tracks, they kept their distance from the train cars while moving cautiously in the direction of the building up ahead.

Eyes glued forward, Nate’s foot accidentally kicked a rock against a metal plate buried halfway into the ground, and both men stopped as the sound echoed. Silence broken by the cawing of nearby crows greeted them, but it wouldn’t last for long.

Nate was the first one to detect movement closer to the building, and with it a cacophony of growls, snapping jaws, and sluggish movement piercing the air. Bodies of feral ghouls lumbered and slithered from their hidden locations and toward the two men.

“Uh, Nate?”

Hearing the panicking voice beside him, Nate glance at Scott, who watched fearfully as five more of the creatures shambled into view. “Well, shit.”

“What's the plan here?” Scott asked, edging closer to Nate.

Darting his gaze between the approaching horde of feral ghouls and the train cars, Nate tried figuring out an escape route. Weighing their options, he finally gestured to the nearest train car. “Bastards can't climb so head for the—”

A shot rang out making Nate flinch, yet he still witnessed the nearest feral ghoul collapse to the ground. Scott aimed again, pulling the trigger to bring down two more before glaring back at Nate. “Running out of ammo here. You gonna help or what?”

Deliberating if the young man’s course of action was rational – considering how they’ve been fleeing from a missile-obsessed super mutant moments ago – Nate nodded and raised his rifle to take down a feral ghoul hobbling a little too close for comfort. He lost track of time, let alone count on how many feral ghouls they've killed, but once the last of the creatures’ slumped to the ground dead, he exhaled deeply.

“Finally,” Nate said, lowering the rifle, and turning to where Scott stood. “I think we got—”

A blur of irradiated and weathered skin slammed into Scott, both disappearing over the ridge of a hill in a blink of an eye.

“Fuck!” Nate sprinted over the crest of the hill staring in dread as the two bodies tumbled down the slope. At first, Scott didn't move but after what felt like an eternity, he slowly staggered back to his feet, swaying slightly before giving a thumbs up.

As for the feral ghoul, a fractured leg rendered its movement, but that didn’t stop the creature from crawling towards the dazed young man several feet away. Snarling and baring its rotted teeth, the feral ghoul’s skull burst in unison to the gunshot from Nate’s rifle, and it slumped to the ground.

Half-sliding down the hill, Nate rushed over to check on Scott. “Are you okay?”

“I'll be fine once the world stops spinning. _Again_ ,” Scott said, waving dismissively at Nate in reassurance.

“It’s my fault. I should have noticed the straggler. But—”

“Don't worry about it. Shit happens.” Scott patted Nate on the shoulder as he slowly made his way back up the hill. “On the bright side, we're not being chased by the super mutant anymore.”

*****

Upon returning to Sanctuary, Scott started repairing the transmitter by using the supplies and salvageable parts made available to him. Working late into the night wasn't his ideal choice, but it provided him some much needed ‘time out.’ Mainly from Nate. But that wasn't why he avoided the man since they arrived back at Sanctuary.

Slowly rotating his right arm, Scott carefully pulled back the sleeve of his jacket revealing the reddening teeth marks imprinted deep into his skin. The broken flesh burned, and a small amount of blood still pooled in the punctured skin, but he managed to tolerate the pain on the way back to Sanctuary. “Well, this isn’t cliché at all. Not like zombie movies start out with a nasty bite mark or anything.”

Scott sighed. Retrieving the medical kit from the cupboard, he started cleaning the wound before carefully wrapping strips of fabric around it.

He refused to inform Nate of it and didn't plan to. Either the older man would chastise him for being stupid, or fuss over it with some damn excuse about him being a burden. He tugged the sleeve over the bandage and ignored the problem by resolving a greater problem: delivering the transmitter to Jack Cabot.

Picking up the device to inspect it, Scott glanced over to Nate when he entered the warehouse. Silently taking a position by leaning against the counter with his arms folded, Nate didn't say anything. Just observed.

Scott ignored him for the most part, replacing and repairing parts on the transmitter until a not too subtle clearing of one’s throat caused him to turn his attention back to the older man.

“We need to go over a few basic rules,” Nate said sternly.

“Such as?”

“Your relentless questions concerning anything and everything.” Nate raised a hand to silence Scott when he opened his mouth to speak. “I get the fact you're curious, but these probing questions is more of a problem than a solution. Sooner or later, people are going to start asking questions of their own about you. And I can't always be there to defend you.”

“So, what would you recommend?”

“Just _stop_ with the damn questions while we're out there in the world. Save them for a later time.”

“All right,” Scott said, barely above a whisper. His sudden lack of interest in debating the subject had Nate raising an eyebrow.

“Something you're wanting to tell me?”

Gnawing at his bottom lip in thought, Scott caught himself in time before he touched where the bite mark lay concealed under the layer of clothing. Instead, he reached for the transmitter, held it up, and turned to Nate. “It's almost fixed and, if you're willing, I could use your help in delivering it to Jack.”

Nate’s eyes drifted from Scott’s face to the device and then back up again. Yet, a sudden spike in anxiety wedged its way into Scott’s mind when he noticed Nate’s gaze lingering slightly longer where the wound remained hidden.

“Under one condition,” Nate said finally.

 _He knows_ , Scott repeated over and over in his head. _Perhaps I should just confess now to avoid future repercussions_ —

“Don't ask too many questions on the way there.”

Feeling relief, Scott exhaled slowly, and upon noticing the skeptical expression on the older man's face, he straightened back up with a smile. “Thank you. I'll try my best not to pester you with so many questions.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Nate said, “Then it’s a promise,” before leaving Scott alone to his own thoughts and secrets.

*****

“So, here's the plan,” Scott mumbled around a mouthful of food. He kept rotating the map while blinking in puzzlement. Eventually, he squinted at the dotted trails until Nate snatched the map away in frustration. “I don't have a plan anymore.”

“We're going directly to Parsons State Insane Asylum. That's it,” Nate said, crinkling up the map. “You don't _need_ a plan.”

“What if we encounter enemies? Super mutants? Big giant bugs?”

Nate stared at the young man. “Didn't we discuss last night you wouldn't ask too many questions?”

Scott resisted the urge to argue by simply shrugging. “I forgot.”

“I made sure to avoid locations that may be swarming with hostile enemies. So, _no_ super mutants or feral ghouls.”

“Sounds reassuring enough.”

They made their way over a small knoll that dipped into a lake Nate identified as Lake Quannapowitt. To the far right, the towering structure bearing the resemblance of a Mr. Handy pinpointed to the General Atomics Galleria, which Nate had to discourage the inquisitive Scott from venturing to. To their left… death on mecanum wheels.

“Shit!” Nate spat, yanking Scott down for cover. They didn't expect to cross paths with Rust Devils while en route to Parsons State Insane Asylum. But, lo and behold, the psychotic chem junkies popped out of nowhere like annoying gnats with a customized sentry bot following close behind.

Nate questioned the decision of following this path to the asylum, but his thoughts were interrupted by the shouts followed by an explosion soon afterward. “What the--” His eyes drifted to where the smoldering wreckage of a vehicle lay simmering with straggling raiders lying dazed and confused.

_Rust Devils fighting regular raiders?_

One of the raiders stumbled back to his feet, gawking at the approaching Rust Devils. He shouted something before scrambling for cover as the reprogrammed sentry bot unleashed a spray of bullets at him.

“So, regular raiders and Rust Devils are feuding over territories now,” Nate grumbled. “Wonderful.”

“What's wonderful?”

Nate twisted around to look at Scott. “We just stumbled upon a bunch of raiders in a firefight.”

“I say we hightail it out of here before we get dragged into a turf war,” Scott said, observing the clashing bands down in the gully. “Considering how they've got a rampaging sentry bot.”

“Yeah. The only downside is wasting time navigating around them.”

“We _could_ just wait it out.”

“Preferably not.”

“Well, I'm not too big on ideas here,” Scott shot him an annoyed stare. “You're the strategist. So, uh, strategize something.”

“I don't know so shut up and let me think.”

“Well, better think fast because we're about to have company,” Scott snapped back.

Staking a position closer to the young man, both observed the remainder of the Rust Devils trudging across the terrain. Their unusual armor consisting of robot parts reflecting the sunlight.

 _Shit._ Nate knew he should have taken out the head honcho when he had a chance. Instead, he let the woman live when fleeing from Fort Hagen’s satellite arrays almost a year ago.

“What's the plan?” Scott asked, his gaze lingering on the Rust Devil raiders. A small amount of curiosity glinted in his eyes, but he stifled the fascination by blinking away.

“Lay low and out of sight. We're not in a position to take them all on.”

“Sooner or later we're gonna have to.”

“But not today,” Nate said. “Our top priority is getting the transmitter to Jack. I promised you that and I'm sticking to it.” Shifting his gaze from the Rust Devils to Scott, he paused. Those green eyes regarded him carefully. Yet, something else glinted but vanished the moment the young man broke eye contact.

“You're right. Let's keep moving on.” Scott didn't wait for Nate’s response as he moved away, both men cautiously slipping past the raiders.

With the Rust Devils behind them, they continued toward Parsons State Insane Asylum. Neither of them speaking to one another along the way. Even though Nate welcomed the silence, something nagged at him in the back of his mind. An inkling, really, of a secret Scott is refusing to disclose. He has his suspicions, but he preferred keeping his mouth shut and getting to their destination before pressing the subject. Or acknowledging that faint hint of something else within his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

Parsons State Insane Asylum. How Scott missed it so. In a way, of course. The only reason returning here was to drop off the transmitter device Scott constructed. Otherwise, he would prefer steering clear of the dismal place and the crazy scientist within.

Stepping into the building, both Nate and Scott were greeted by Deegan and an unknown woman standing next to the ghoul. Her eyes gleamed of abhorrence upon noticing the two, but mainly at Nate’s presence.

“Can't get enough of the asylum, can you?” Deegan asked Scott, a slight smirk edging his marred lips.

“It's my home away from home. Figuratively speaking.”

The ghoul chuckled lightly. “Don’t let Mr. Cabot hear you say that. He might try convincing you to stay.” Turning his attention back to Nate, Deegan relayed some information and possible odd jobs of interest.

Remaining silent, Scott tried his best to appear uninterested in the conversation between the other three. Perusing some of the artwork displayed along the walls, ornaments, and unusual sculptures Scott assumed were nearly as old as the building, he focused on everything but the discussion behind him until the scornful tone of the woman’s voice drew his attention from a questionable piece of artwork.

Although she didn't address Nate specifically, the way her eyes focused on the man with intense animosity sent a chill down one’s spine. She spoke with a feeling of resentment, seemingly abrasive and distant toward Nate, and their exchange of words did little to mollify the tension in the air.

Once the discussion concluded and they made their way to Jack’s lab, Scott couldn't refrain from asking the question.

“I noticed a large amount of tension back there,” Scott said as they stepped into the elevator. “And the woman wasn't overly friendly towards you. Did you do something to piss her off?”

Nate didn't say anything at first, pressing the button to descend to the lower levels of the facility. The doors glided shut and an indistinct voice emanated from the intercom prior to the elevator lurching into motion. Apart from the hum of machinery, his response broke the silence between them. “I ended a relationship with her a few months ago.”

“So, she's an ex-girlfriend of yours?”

Sighing, the older man rested the back of his head against the wall, scratching at the short beard in contemplation. “Guess you could say that.”

“She doesn't seem to like me either from my perspective,” Scott said. “Can't imagine why.”

Nate didn't bother to look at Scott as he kept his eyes on the sealed doorway. “She has a competitive streak about her. I wouldn't worry over it.”

“Huh,” is all Scott said in response, remaining quiet for the duration of the trip down.

As the doors slid open, both stepped into the laboratory hearing the consistent muttering of the Cabot heir himself.

“Just a few tweaks of this… possibly a miscalculation in the equation… no… that can't be right…” Jack huddled over a notepad, scribbling and then crossing out whatever he wrote. Nate cleared his throat drawing the scientist's attention. “Ah! Nate! I'm glad you're here.”

Jack paused once noticing Scott beside Nate. “Have you returned to allow me an opportunity to delve into your brain?”

“Uh... no,” Scott said. “I developed this transmitter device, though.” He handed it over to Jack, who rotated it around for admiration. “Once you get that thingamajig up and running, you could start sending a signal through it with this.”

“Fascinating,” the scientist said, still gawking at the gadget in awe. “Perhaps you'd make a better protégé than an experiment. What type of signal will it be sending?”

“Well, _if_ it works, it'll be sending a signal that’s easily traceable. Kinda like Morse code. That way we can avoid any mishaps like your facility being overrun by weird things and—” Scott scanned the room, frowning at the absence of his personal equipment. “—what's become of my gear?”

“Oh, never you fret, Mr. Scott,” Jack said smiling. “I've placed it in storage for the time being.”

“You haven't dismantled any of it?” Nate asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Of course not! I left everything in its previous condition.” Ambling over to a counter cluttered with crumpled up paper, Jack placed the transmitter down gently as if it were fragile.

“That is… surprising,” Scott tilted his head. “There's something I'd like to retrieve from my belongings, though.” When Nate side-eyed him, he quickly added, “It's not going to stick out like a sore thumb or put my life on the line. Well, I mean… _more_ so than usual.”

“What _type_ of gear are we talking about?” Nate questioned, still giving that suspicious stare from the corner of his eyes.

“It's a bit complicated to explain so I'll just show you.”

Once Jack guided them to the storage room, Scott inspected his gear and weapons carefully, while the scientist observed in fascination. A few questions were tossed around, and the young man answered in scientific lingo that Nate struggled to understand. So, he resorted to cocking his head to one side in puzzlement.

After explaining a series of inquiries, Scott presented several of his weapons, each explained with a historical background or development process. Jack ogled them with an urge to dismantle them piece by piece for blueprint purposes. Nate, on the other hand, seemed more concern of the arsenal falling into the wrong hands.

Nate looked over the weapons, noting a few appearing strange and out of the ordinary. “You’re not considering on taking any of these with, are you?”

Scott glanced up from a rifle, his green eyes staring brazenly back. “No offense but your selection of firearms is mediocre.”

“It’s 20th-century technology—”

“So is nuclear energy and look where that got you.” Eyes flashing in fury, Scott persisted on pointing out flaws and human errors. He held nothing back as he criticized everything he witnessed while journeying together with the older man. “ _Your_ 20 th-century technology held humanity back. We’ve progressed further in both science and technology. Hell, we’re even capable of traveling throughout the galaxy using Mass Relays.”

 _Another science word_ , Nate surmised with a shake of his head. “What the hell is a Mass Relay?”

“It’s a bunch of scientific jargon you’re probably not interested in hearing.” Scott slowly exhaled, trying to remain reasonable. “The main point I’m trying to make is that we didn’t restrict ourselves to old-fashioned technology. By the 22nd century, humanity discovered more planets and alien lifeforms than the extraterrestrial we both stumbled across a few days ago.”

Jack’s jaw dropped, and he was on the brink of asking questions when Nate shot him a scowl as a forewarning to keep his mouth shut.

“Sounds more like science fiction bullshit to me,” Nate muttered, directing his gaze back to Scott. “I guess anyone born on this planet can share similar stories.”

“I actually wasn’t born on earth,” Scott said with a half shrug. “That’s a discussion for another day. Anyway, I’m not planning on taking all my weapons with me. Maybe one or two.”

Nate narrowed his eyes. “One.”

“Fine. I’m taking the rifle.” Holding the weapon up with admiration, Scott beamed. The familiarity of how it felt within his grasp a welcome adjustment since being stranded in the Commonwealth. “It’s an M-8 Avenger—”

“It looks like an alien weapon.”

“Oh my god.” Scott rolled his eyes and then retrieved another rifle. “This one then,” he said, lifting a weapon that looked like it was ripped straight out of some futuristic-themed novel. “It’s called a Sweeper and—”

“Yeah, no.” Shaking his head, Nate pointed to the first rifle lying upon the table. “Take the less alien-looking one instead.”

Scott stared at him for a few seconds, expecting a half-assed joke, and then switched out the rifles quickly afterward. “You happy now?”

“Yes. Now let’s get going.” Turning to leave, Nate managed to take a few steps until hearing the young man clear his throat.

“I’m also taking the sniper rifle,” Scott said with an air of confidence.

Peering angrily back at the young man, Nate resisted the urge to berate the guy. “Why don’t you just wear your entire suit then?”

Scott’s face brightened up instantly. “Can I?”

“No!” Nate snapped. “Take the Mate Assblender, or whatever the hell it’s called—”

“M-8 Avenger,” Scott corrected, the smile slipping away.

“—and the sniper rifle. But that’s it.”

“Sweet.” Scott grabbed both weapons, slinging the sniper rifle over a shoulder and stashing the other into his backpack.

Jack slowly leaned in, whispering to Scott, “Any chance I could take a look at that extraterrestrial you two found?”

“I can give you the coordinates of its location.”

“Excellent!” Jack exclaimed. “I’ll have Deegan retrieve the body immediately!”

“I'll meet you at the entrance,” Nate said to Scott once the scientist stopped babbling about the alien. “I've got a few things to discuss with Jack before we head out.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Scott grinned when Nate frowned at his antics.

Stepping into the elevator and pressing the button, Scott waited impatiently to explore the facility while Nate was momentarily distracted. Rocking back and forth on his feet, anxiously waiting for the doors to slide open, and when they finally did, he hastened out of there to investigate the place. But not without snagging a bottle of whiskey from Jack’s personal cache.

“He owes me anyway,” Scott said, stashing the liquor into his backpack.

During his browsing of the place, Scott encountered a few patrolling guards but none of them seem too concerned about his presence. Moving from room to room, he followed the corridor until ending up in front of a door with a sign saying _Robotic Engineering_ above it. Turning the doorknob, Scott stepped into a room containing several terminals, shelves jam-packed with random parts and tools, and a robot workbench occupying the far corner of the area.

Sitting in front of a monitor was the scathing woman from earlier. She didn't notice Scott until pivoting in the chair for a clipboard. “Oh, it's you,” she said in disdain.

“Umm, hi.” Forcing a smile, Scott briefly waved in greetings. “Nice setup you have here.”

Shifting through paperwork while casting an icy stare in his direction, she grumbled, “I'm not interested in small talk,” and turned back to the terminal.

_No wonder why Nate dumped your ass…_

“So, I don't know why you hate me, and I might be grasping at straws here but—”

“Look. When they told me about you, I didn't expect you to be,” she skimmed her eyes over him before staring back at the monitor, “attractive.”

“Not sure if I should be offended or flattered by that statement,” Scott said, lifting an eyebrow. “Why's being attractive a bad thing?”

The woman scoffed. “You obviously don't know the world very well.”

“Yeah, well, I'm still learning.” Walking across the room to examine the robot workbench, Scott couldn't help noticing how her eyes followed his every move.

“The world's not particularly nice. It corrupts people. Makes them volatile and insane,” she said after a while of observing him. “It'll do the same to you in the end. Happens to us all.”

Scott ran a hand over some of the metal parts, keenly aware of her standing up and taking a few steps toward him. “Can't argue with that, but I've dealt with my fair share of fucked up places.”

The woman stood next to him now, and when he met her gaze, she raised her hand as if to slap him but hesitated. “Take your hands off of my equipment.”

Scott stepped away from the workbench. “You're territorial, aren't you?”

“I don't like strangers putting their filthy hands on my personal belongings.”

“Does ‘ _personal belongings_ ’ include Nate as well?”

Scott’s response had her tensing up, those brown eyes growing cold and sinister. She eventually huffed in annoyance and decided to return to her work instead. “You don't know Nate as well as I do.”

“I’ve been trying to. Believe me. Asked a lot of questions and got nothing but him scowling at me.”

“Sounds about right.” No longer focusing on Scott, she hovered over the terminal, tapping away at a few keys. “He's a difficult man to understand.”

“Speaking of Nate, you seem to harbor some sort of grudge against him—”

The woman sighed, straightening up to address Scott. “I don't hate him if that's what you're implying. It just… never worked out between us. Overall, he's a good man. He's done a lot. Built settlements, saved lives. I believe he's still struggling to accept his late wife's death. He's closed himself off emotionally because of that.”

“Except being grumpy and bitter.”

“That's how Nate conceals his feelings. It’s as if he’s afraid of being happy or allowing anyone close to him.” She studied Scott with those brown eyes. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Nate won't admit it. Not at first, anyway. But he cares about the people in his life. Some of his decisions… well, they're not always the right ones.”

Scott arched an eyebrow up at that statement. “Right ones? As in… he makes shitty choices just like any other human?”

“He's hell-bent on seeking vengeance. For the abduction of his son. The murder of his wife.” She sighed, the harshness in her voice vanishing. A hint of sorrow crossed her expression before continuing. “I’m just afraid all of that anger will blind him from potential happiness.”

“You're wanting him to be happy, even if he broke your heart?”

“I can still be compassionate. Maybe that's where Nate and I disagreed.” Gazing at the monitor in silence, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear.

“By the way,” Scott started, walking over and lifting a hand up, “We haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Scott.”

The woman stared at the outstretched hand and finally stood up to shake it. “Isabel.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Anyway, I best be going so you can get back to work.”

As Scott turned to leave, Isabel spoke up, “Please keep Nate safe for all of our sakes. People like him are a rarity in a world like this.”

“I'll try.” Scott smiled back at her before stepping out of the room. Backtracking to the main entrance, he ran into Nate, who just barely left Jack’s laboratory.

“You ready to head out?” Nate asked.

“Ready as I'll ever be.” Scott practically bounced toward the door, re-energized to be on the move again. “Where to next, partner?”

Nate furrowed his eyebrows. “Partner?”

“Well, seeing how we've been traveling together for a few days, I just thought that we're in agreement of assisting one another. You know… help each other on responsibilities and jobs. That sort of thing.”

“You've been doing a lot of thinking over this, haven't you?”

“Eh, more like pondering over it for the last ten minutes or so. Give or take,” Scott admitted. “And, you _did_ help me out with the transmitter. I owe you big time for that, by the way.”

“It's nothing. Just glad to help.”

“Regardless, I appreciate it.” Scott’s voice became more somber, his gaze lowering to the floor. “Not a lot of people would risk helping out a stranger. Hell, half the shit I went through, it was an uphill battle. Mostly political bullshit. Ever since he…” His words faded off as he remained staring at the ground.

As if to suppress the remembrance of a past incident, Scott switched back to his cheerful attitude seconds later. “Anyway, let's get a move on, shall we?”

Nate watched him stroll away, feeling sympathy for whatever horrid memory tormented the young man mere seconds ago. It wasn't until Scott turned to look back at him from the entranceway, smiling and daring a quick wink before slipping outside, that Nate knew he's on the path to reopening old wounds himself.

_I'm going to regret traveling down memory lane…_


	9. Chapter 9

Since leaving Parsons State Insane Asylum, both men have been lingering in Diamond City; Nate reviewing his case notes with the Valentine detective while Scott escaped to the Dugout Inn chatting up the locals and befriending the Bobrov brothers. With his charismatic charm, he quickly gained an audience with the regulars there, much to Nate’s displeasure.

“You mean to tell me that after sneaking into the place, those super mutants waltzed right past you unaware?” Vadim asked, his booming laughter following quickly afterward. “I knew you had nerves of steel. So, tell me, how did they eventually discover you?”

“A chicken,” Scott answered, slightly smirking at the bartender’s baffled expression.

“A chicken?”

“Yep. Still can't figure out how the hell it got in there, but that damnable chicken blew my cover.” Taking a swig of moonshine, Scott coughed at the burning sensation, earning another laugh from Vadim. “Holy hell, that stuff is strong.”

“What did you expect? Piss?” Vadim chuckled, pouring a glass of the stuff for himself. He gulped it down with a satisfying sigh. “Best damn moonshine in the Commonwealth.”

Yefim simply rolled his eyes at his brother’s showy display before focusing his attention back on Scott. “What did Nate have to say about it?”

Giving a few quick coughs to clear his throat, Scott glanced at the quieter one of the Bobrov brothers. “About the super mutants or the chicken?”

“The chicken, of course!” Vadim interrupted, slapping his brother on the shoulder, who tossed an annoyed glance back. “Why a chicken is squatting in a super mutant hideout is beyond me. But, seriously, what _did_ ol’ Nate say? Knowing him, it's probably something along the lines of principles and honor. Strict codes, moral obligations… that sort of thing.”

“Actually,” Scott leaned in with a mischievous grin. “I'm pretty sure that old grumpy prude almost shit his pants when the damn chicken fluttered out the door. If it was a rooster, I’d say he almost got a face full of cock.”

Laughter erupted, and Scott couldn't help the smile broadening across his face. Until the laughs instantly died off with uneasy glances around the room.

“Old grumpy prude, huh?”

The grin flipped into a frown upon hearing that criticizing tone of voice, and Scott slowly shifted in the chair to notice Nate standing there, arms folded and brown eyes cold and judging.

“Uh, hi, Nate,” Scott managed to say, waving sheepishly at the older man. “Didn't hear you come in.”

“Obviously,” Nate said, still scowling.

Yefim coughed, and slipped away from the gathering, mumbling some excuse of tidying up one of the rooms.

As the rest of Scott’s audience scattered to see to their own obligations, the young man stood up and slowly walked over to Nate. “Sorry for what you overheard a little bit ago,” Scott apologized, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as the older man’s stare intensified. “I kinda got carried away with the whole storytelling and, well, I'm truly sorry if what I said offended you.”

Nate stood there watching Scott fidget uneasily in the long, drawn-out silence between them until eventually huffing in annoyance. “So, Nick’s sending us on a missing person’s case.”

“Seems to be a reoccurring theme around here.”

“The _point_ is,” Nate continued, giving a rather harsh glare at the young man, “it’s a personal matter this time around. Danny Sullivan is the one who’s fronting the caps for this case. Apparently, the rather notorious reporter, Piper, disappeared not too long ago and now her little sister went missing as well.”

“So, how do we fit into all of this?”

“Piper’s a friend to both Nick and I, and she’s been the backbone in gathering intel on the Institute for my son’s case,” Nate said. “For her to disappear days on end isn’t unusual. Her younger sister, on the other hand, vanished without a trace.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “And you’re assuming the Institute has their hands in this?”

“Not really.” With a deep sigh, Nate shook his head in disbelief. “According to Danny, Piper’s more recent obsession for a potential article involves extraterrestrials.”

Those green eyes slightly narrowed at the mentioned of the word. “What about that UFO crash site?”

“Chances are she already picked that place clean for details. Either she’s heading straight for the insane asylum to interview Jack Cabot, or Danny’s leaving out some details to his story.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because Nat, Piper’s younger sister, wouldn’t up and leave in the middle of the night. A twelve-year-old girl alone in the Commonwealth is a target for raiders and Gunners. Ransom, slavery, you name it. Something’s off and we’re going to find out.”

*****

Two days.

Two goddamn days they spent trailing after Piper. Whatever trouble she conjured up in search of the truth, Nate wasn't pleased with. Granted, the reporter has some vendetta of ousting the Institute, her truth-seeking explorations put her more in harm's way than anything else. But to endanger Nat, her younger sister?

Nat usually stayed back in Diamond City selling newspapers. She rarely ventured out into the Commonwealth unless tagging alongside her sister, but even then, they never traveled too far from the big city.

Whatever is going on, it didn’t settle well with Nate.

Scott plodded next to him, eyes seemingly hazy and inattentive to the road ahead, while his body lacked the usual get-up-and-go and enthusiasm. Since leaving Diamond City, the young man appeared distant and less talkative than his usual self. Nate almost questioned if taking him along was a wise idea but having someone to watch his back shoved those thoughts aside.

Nate glanced at his Pip-Boy a few times, skimming through the uploaded map before eyeing the clock. It was a quarter past noon, and he angled his head in Scott’s direction. “Want to keep going?”

Those green eyes blinked a couple of times before focusing on Nate. “Yeah. That’s fine,” Scott said, letting his gaze dip back to the jagged road.

“Haven't been talkative since we left Diamond City. Something on your mind?”

Scott exhaled slowly. “Just tired is all.”

“We can take a small break if you want,” Nate offered, slinging his rifle over a shoulder to free up an extra hand to tap at the Pip-Boy’s screen. “There’s a semi-secure building up ahead we could use as –”

Faltering in his steps, Scott staggered slightly before coming to a halt. Trying to focus on the horizon, he caught a glimpse of something moving between the buildings. It briefly paused long enough for him to distinguish the outlines of a young girl. He quickly rubbed at one of his eyes, squinting for a clear look but the person disappeared.

_Must be losing my mind_ , Scott thought.

“You okay?”

Scott managed a feeble smile while expressing it’s only tiredness and not to be overly concerned. Except worry gnawed away at Nate when Scott’s eyes no longer gleamed but appeared dull and… well, _lifeless_.

Nate’s brown eyes skimmed over the young man’s form to distinguish signs of an illness or injury. “Any allergies I should know about?”

“None that I know of.” Taking a few cautionary steps forward, Scott once more stopped, his gaze lifting upward to the nearly cloudless sky. “Maybe it's the sun, or –”

“When's the last time you've eaten?”

“Yesterday?” Scott shrugged indifferently. “I can't really remember. Everything's been a blur lately.”

“You need to eat.”

“Rule number one: radiation is everywhere,” Scott said, a small grin edging his lips.

The excuse wasn’t convincing, and Nate didn’t have the patience to argue with the young man. “Don't tell me that's why you haven’t been eating.”

The grin disappeared, quickly replaced with a frown. “Nah. The food doesn't need to be irradiated in order to taste like shit.”

Observing Scott’s interaction so far, Nate decided to pick a spot to rest for an hour or two. It might give the young man some time to recuperate from whatever afflicted him. Hopefully. “We can take a breather for a bit before continuing on.”

“No need. I'm good to keep going.” Proceeding further along the road, Scott tried his best to walk casual, but his feet betrayed him, and he nearly stumbled to the ground. “That was a mishap. Ignore it.”

“I'm not ignoring the fact you're exhausted,” Nate said, snagging Scott by the arm and pulling him over to a secluded spot to rest. “Nor am I going to ignore the fact you're suffering from radiation poisoning.”

“I'm not suffering –”

Nate forced the jacket’s sleeve up exposing the makeshift bandage on Scott’s arm. The gauze already revealed a reopening of the wound, soaking up blood that threatened to pour from out underneath the fabric. “How long have you had the injury?”

“Can’t remember,” Scott said, crinkling his nose up in displeasure.

Nate huffed in response as he made Scott sit down. Rummaging through his backpack for the med kit, he pulled the necessary equipment out and turned his attention to the shoddy work. Slowly unraveling the strips of fabric revealed the serious condition of the wound, which didn’t bode well with him. With noticeable discoloration of the skin, and the small bits of blood seeping from unhealthy tissue, Nate instantly scowled at the young man.

“This is a goddamn bite mark,” Nate snapped a little too aggressively causing Scott to flinch. “How the hell did you get this?”

“When… I took a tumble down the hill with the feral ghoul back at Bedford Station.”

“It's infected, Scott, in case you haven't noticed.” Tossing the useless and saturated cloth aside, Nate retrieved antibiotics and RadAway, noticing Scott’s reaction to the syringe. “Hold out your arm.”

“I hate needles,” Scott mumbled, hesitating to angle his arm outwards.

Nate’s scowl deepened. “The needle’s the least of your worries. I'd be more concerned of a rapid spread of infection. Arm. _Now_.”

“Damn, you're pushy.” Shoving his arm forward, Scott watched as Nate tended to the wound with keen precision. First cleansing, and then disinfecting the spot designated for the injection of the antibiotic. “You must've done this hundred of times.”

“I've had my fair share of scrapes and bruises,” Nate said, inspecting the injury before continuing. “Doesn't help when you're basically a medic.”

“Medic?”

“That's a story for another time.” Nate grinned when Scott recoiled upon seeing the syringe idling against his skin. “Terrified of needles?”

“It's called trypanophobia, and, yeah, I dislike – _fuck_!” Scott whined, turning his face away from the instant Nate slid the needle into his forearm. “You could've warned me beforehand!”

“Where's the fun in that?”

“You're a sadistic and cruel man, you know that?”

“You'll get over it,” Nate said, patting the young man on the undamaged part of the arm. He returned to tending to the wound, fastening gauze and strips of fabric around it while ignoring the way Scott kept peeping over at his handiwork. Finishing up the last touches, he held up the RadAway. “You'll need to take this to purge some of the radiation out of your system.”

“Do I ingest it, or does it require another needle?” Scott asked as he cautiously examined the package.

“What do you think?”

“I'll just make a cocktail with it then.”

“Good. Might as well start working on it right now.” Nate settled down nearby, rearranging the items within his backpack. “Try to relax for a while. No need to rush.”

“Is this the point in our adventure that I disclose to you my deepest and darkest fear?” Scott asked, shaking the RadAway in a similar fashion one would when mixing a drink. “And, afterward, we establish a friendship by sharing secrets and mutual understanding of one another?”

“No. You’re still annoying,” Nate said, not bothering to glance in Scott’s direction. “But a little more tolerable.”

“Hooray,” the young man softly murmured to himself, still studying the substance contained within the bag. “What’s your favorite color?” He set the RadAway down next to him, turning his focus on the vault dweller.

“Random question but green,” Nate answered, eyeing the young man suspiciously. “Is there a point to this?”

Scott shrugged. “Just trying to get to know you a bit more is all.”

“Kinda feels like we already had this discussion over a few drinks.”

“Well, yeah, but nothing ordinary.” Scott tugged at the sleeve of his jacket, carefully slipping it over the fresh dressing of the wound. “Blue.”

Nate lifted an eyebrow, somewhat confused by the single word. “What?”

“My favorite color,” Scott clarified, smiling back at the older man. “My favorite color’s blue.”

*****

“I swear we’ve been this way before.” Scott kicked indifferently at the railroad tracks in boredom. They’ve managed to pick up Piper’s trail earlier after resting for a bit. Now that Scott’s overall health improved since taking the RadAway and having his wound properly tended to, he’s been more upbeat and enthusiastic. Somewhat, anyway. “Besides, if we’re heading for the asylum, we’re going the wrong way.” He jabbed a thumb in the opposite direction. “It’s that way.”

“We’re not going to the asylum,” Nate responded while peering back over his shoulder at the young man. “Piper’s trail leads out of the Commonwealth. Not sure what the hell she’s up to –”

“Is there supposed to be a girl standing in the middle of the train tracks?” Scott interrupted, pointing past Nate. “Or is the RadAway messing with my mind?”

Nate stopped, eyes now turned ahead to notice the young girl standing there. She deftly tucked her lower face underneath a scarf to hide the sheepish grin spreading across her freckled face.

_It’s the young girl from earlier_ , Scott instantly noted, thankful that he hasn’t, in fact, lost his mind.

Nate, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. Not in mistrust but disbelief. “Nat?”

Her eyes widened, lingering on Scott for a few seconds longer until shifting to the vault dweller.

“What are you doing here?” Nate asked upon approaching the young girl. He glanced around when she didn’t respond immediately. “And where’s Piper?”

“I... uh…” She seemed to shrink in fear, almost appearing young and innocent – an opposite of her usual brave attitude. The girl shifted nervously from foot to foot. “I went looking for Piper. She… uh… hasn't returned from her last investigation.”

“Her last investigation?”

“Somewhere to the far west,” Nat said. “She mentioned something about an unusual object that plummeted from the sky a while back.”

The first thought that popped into Nate’s head was the UFO both him and Scott encountered a while back near Oberland Station. “Like a circular, metallic object?”

“No. It was… rectangular, I think.” The young girl dug through the small satchel clipped to her belt and withdrew a small leather-bound sketchbook. She handed it over to Nate, who examined the contents with a raised eyebrow. He found a small slip of paper with an unusual drawing tucked between the pages and held it up for closer inspection.

“Why the hell would she go that far west to search for this?” Nate flipped the drawing around, reading the hastily scribbled notes on the backside. Two letterings etched onto the tarnished paper resembled something like an insignia or symbol. He tilted the torn sheet to study it. “I don’t know what this means. Maybe it’s a reference or part of that elemental table with those metal abbreviation thingies.”

“A periodic table,” Scott said, matter-of-factly.

“Right. That.” Giving up on deciphering whatever it was scribbled on the parchment, Nate placed the sketch back into the book and started handing it over to Scott until the young girl snatched it from his grasp.

“She heard rumors. Wanted to look into them and that’s all I know,” Nat said as she shoved the book back into the satchel.

“What _kind_ of rumors?” Nate asked, folding his arms.

She lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe aliens.”

“Aliens?” Nate chuckled at that. “I’m surprised she didn’t head for Jack Cabot first before hauling ass west. That man sure does love his theories of intelligent life within the universe.”

Scott snorted in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything.

“I already asked Jack and he said he hasn’t seen nor heard from Piper for several weeks.” Placing her hands on her hips, Nat jutted out her chin. “So, you two gonna help me find my sister or what?”

“And there’s that brazen attitude of yours,” Nate mumbled. He glanced over to where Scott stood and waited for the man to say something, but he only shrugged in response. Sighing, Nate peered down at the young girl. “I think it’s best we drop you off at a nearby settlement before –”

“Nah uh!” she interrupted, wagging a finger at Nate, which earned a lighthearted laugh from Scott. “I’m going with you two if you like it or not!”

“No, you’re not,” Nate argued back. “Wherever Piper went, it could be dangerous, and I’m not going to place you in harm’s way.”

“I can handle myself!”

“You’re twelve years old and –”

“If she wants to tag along then let her,” Scott eventually interjected. When Nate turned to scowl at him, he didn’t waver. “She obviously can handle herself. I mean, she’s been following Piper’s trail for several days now and, well, maybe she can help out.”

“She’s only twelve –”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned while traveling around is that the Commonwealth isn’t kind. People must learn to survive. The young and the old,” Scott said. “Coddling isn’t going to help, and you know it.”

Before Nate could respond, the young girl quickly sprinted past him.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” she yelled.

Nate now scowled heavily at Scott. “Anything happens to her, it’s _your_ damn fault.”

Both men proceeded to follow the now energetic young girl, neither speaking to one another as they made their way toward a destination. A place filled with death, chaos, and the inevitable curveball to what’s yet to come.


End file.
